Strands
by Zarla
Summary: If you've read Koinonayami, you know the character named Dr. Dowasure. A lot of things happened to make the doctor who he is today... (Part Six now up)
1. Death, Renewal, Death

This is Dr. Dowasure's (From Koinonayami) past, basically. I've mentioned on my site (www.nplu.net) that me and Dowasure are very alike. We are. We react ta things da same way, feel da same way, think da same way, and...are afraid of da same things. And in this story...even our pasts mingle so it's hard ta tell when it's mine and when it's his.  
  
This story, fer me, was very emotional and hard ta get out. I guess it would touch with a lotta peeps, but I dunno.  
  
  
centerUStrands/U  
  
(By "I love Dr. Dowasure too much...and we're way too similar BY ACCIDENT" Zarla)/center  
  
  
  
He never knew his parents.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't know if he HAD any...everyone had to have parents, genetic parents. But the two who had combined to create the mixture of genes and chromosomes that formed his being may have well have vanished from his life for all they contributed to his maturation. He never knew them and he could not remember their faces. Then again, he could not remember many things.  
  
He was just dark haired, dark eyed....that was all he could deduce about his parents. They must have been dark haired and dark eyed as well, or at least, one of them must have. He didn't know anything else.  
  
He didn't even really remember ever not having parents.  
  
He was adopted when he was three. He didn't really remember the adoption agency, so he could not remember what it was like there. All he could really remember of his past was seeing his parents, who he considered his TRUE parents throughout his life, for the first time.  
  
His mother and father were almost the same height and their hair color was almost the same as well, as were their eyes. He could tell the difference between the colors, though...one thing he was good at was colors...  
  
His mother had light, almost whitish blond hair and eyes that were very bright and very expressive, like a clear sky. His father also had blond hair, but it was less white then his wife's and his eyes were slightly darker, like a day just beginning. Both of their skin was darkened from the sun, although not enough to detract from their appearance to him. Both of them had matching earrings, a small heart, hanging from their left ear.  
  
He remembered, even though he was only three and his memory was very bad, when he first saw them and he remembered them hugging him for the first time in his life that he could remember. Them telling him that he was coming home with them forever, and he was laughing because he was overjoyed, because he felt at ease with them. They seemed so nonthreatening, so caring, that he could instantly feel at peace with them and he trusted them completely, as if they had been his parents for his entire life. He was a very trusting person, even as a small child.  
  
His parents would often run their hands through his hair. His hair. Everyone agreed it was his best feature. Soft, silken black strands that coalesced sometimes into one shining curtain of hair, then would break apart only moments later into individual strands again, each one shining with a light almost all it's own. His hair almost seemed to have a life of it's own, flaring from his head as if it wanted to expand and touch and explore everything. It reflected his own personality, filled with endless curiosity. It was beautiful hair, filled with life and energy and it caught the attention of everyone who saw it. Secretly, he loved it when people touched his hair, ran their hands through his hair, no matter how harsh or soft they did it. Just someone touching his hair made him feel nice. Because his hair was so delicate and so fragile, thus so beautiful, touching it was thrilling to both him and to whoever was touching it. Whenever he was sad he would find himself running it through his hands or tracing it down his cheek or just feeling his hair until he felt better.  
  
His adoptive parents promised that they would never cut his hair unless he wanted them too. He didn't want to cut it. He felt like he would be killing a part of himself. When he tried to explain this, best as he could at his young age, they gave him a thin, grey-blue band. Gently they tied his hair back into a tiny ponytail, barely more then a nub against his neck. That's where it began.  
  
His mother was always gone, working his father would tell him, and his father would stay at home and watch him. His fondest memories was just sleeping on his fathers chest with his arms around him. He always wore a dark-purple sweater, almost black, and it smelled like him. He loved that sweater with all his heart.  
  
Even when he was young, he would forget things. Things they just told him or things that happened a long time ago. They found it very tiresome, but never were angry at him. He was, after all, just a child. They nicknamed him Dowasure out of jest. To forget for a moment. Now that was the only name he knew. He couldn't remember his real name. Just what he always remembered being called. Dowasure. Dowie.BR  
When he was old enough to go to school, his parents bid him a worried farewell, wondering how their child would fare in the environment.BR  
Everyone called him Dowasure. Even teachers. When asked his name, that was what he would say, because that was what he knew. He forgot his true name. He only knew what they told him. Dowasure.  
  
Once, the parents of his class were supposed to gather and collect baked good for some cause. When his father came to the function, Dowasure was singled out for two reasons. One was that it was his father, not his mother, that came to the function. Two was that his father looked so radically different from him it was easy to tell he was adopted.  
  
When he was asked by other children whether or not they were his parents, he said they were. They said that your parents were those who gave you your DNA and created you. Confused, Dowasure stated that he belived that they were his parents because they cared about him. Not ashamed of his heritage made him a mark.  
  
His parents seemed worried that he might be alienated at school because of their differences, but Dowasure told them quite honestly that he would never trade them for anyone else.  
  
His hair grew faster and longer, thicker and better then most of those at his school, which made him an object of ridicule. He was able to block it out, mostly. He usually forgot what they said after they said it anyways.  
  
He was able to make it through school, despite his poor memory, because there was something in his mind that didn't need it. When he stared at numbers or letters, something in his mind made them click together and make sense. Although he would never remember how, he would always answer a math problem right. English presented more of a problem, but Math was one thing that he would always be good at.  
  
He lived with his adoptive parents until he was ten. They never failed to express how much they cared for him, hugging him when he came home, holding him before he fell asleep, doing everything they possibly could for him. They did everything.  
  
They died when he was ten.  
  
He remembered that he didn't understand when they tried to explain it to him. They told him that his parents weren't coming back, that they had gotten into an accident and wouldn't be coming back for a long long time.  
  
He couldn't believe it. His parents loved him. Why would they leave him behind like this? Had he done something wrong?  
  
The funeral service didn't ease his fears. He huddled on the pew and held one of the large books to his chest, wishing that he wasn't hearing what was happening. That his parents were gone, dead and gone, and up with some other person in heaven who needed them more. Who could need his parents more then him?  
  
He was also told that he should be a good person or else he would suffer eternal torment at the hands of "god". He didn't know who that was, but he became very, very frightened of him. Ever afterwards, Dowasure was frightened of churchs.  
  
He was shunted back and forth between the relatives of his now deceased parents for some time before the whole mourning process was over. During the process he was told quite a bit how they understood how he felt and knew just what he was going through and everyone lost their parents and that kind of thing. He didn't believe them. They didn't know anything about the pain he was feeling. They only pretended.  
  
After he watched his parents finally rest underneath the earth, he found that the adults stopped ruffling his hair and talking to him in their normal condescending tones and began to talk very seriously with one another while ignoring him completely.  
  
His mother had once given him a stuffed rabbit, which was what he personally had managed to salvage from their posessions before the rest of the family descended on them like hungry hawks. Also, he had taken a long chain from his mother's jewelry box, taken the two earrings, which somehow found their way into his possession and now he could not exactly remember how, and put the earrings on the chain.  
  
Physically, the only remnants of his parents were the stuffed rabbit, the necklace, and the large dark-purple sweater his father had worn, which was not snatched by the other members of the family because it was commonely believed among them that that the sweater was rather unattractive.  
  
Once he put on the sweater, felt it's long sleeves slide over his hands, the edge of the cloth touching his knees, he felt a warm sense of security. He felt as if he could always hide somehow, no matter what was happening, by sliding deep into the sweater and breathing slowly. He could still smell his father in the sweater.  
  
One of these days, where the adults talked rather seriously and told him to amuse himself out back, he found himself sitting on a swing, kicking his legs back and forth and thinking. He wasn't sitting properly in the swing, but his parents never said that it was important.  
  
Why had his parents left him alone...?  
  
He couldn't be angry at them, no. Not ever. They must have had a good reason. They must have.  
  
He only felt bad that they had not said a real goodbye before they left.  
  
He kicked back and forth lightly, not sending the swing into it's full motion, only letting it nudge slightly along with the light breeze that was blowing over the dirty backyard. The yard belonged to one of his cousin's families, a dark over-grown place that was littered with parts of machinery which had long since ceased their proper function and had now become the home of many things, most of which living. The swing he was sitting on was attached to a large tree near the back wall and the rope had been tied around the branch so long ago by who knew who that there was no longer any real way to tell where the rope met the branch. It had simply grown over the rope. At least he was secure in the knowledge that the branch wouldn't break under his slight weight.  
  
He felt the wind tug lightly at his hair and sighed deeply.  
  
He noticed one of his uncles coming out of the house towards him. He waited until they were standing in front of them then decided to speak.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We've decided where you're going."  
  
"Going?" It had not occured to him that there would be life after his parents left. He blinked at his uncle in confusion. "What?"  
  
"Where you're going to live." His uncle's tone was very short and very clipped, unlike the condescending tone that was usually used with children his age. He reached out his hand and took hold of Dowasure's sleeve. Taking this as a hint, the boy hopped off the swing and stood, waiting for him to tell him what to do.  
  
"Live?"  
  
"Well, you can't live with your parents anymore..." His uncle seemed quite awkward at this point and began to walk with him. Dowasure assumed it was because he didn't want to mention his parent's death. He stumbled along with his uncle. He was even more clumsy then he was before, mainly due to his lack of self-confidence. While his parents had been alive, he had been able to confidently put down one foot after another. Now...  
  
"You're going to live with one of your father's relatives. One of your uncles."  
  
"Oh..." Dowasure couldn't remember any of his father's brothers. The man he was walking with was his mother's brother, and he knew him because he had been the one who had taken him today. Any other time, he would have forgotten about him. That was how his mind worked.  
  
He walked with small nervous steps, which made it difficult to keep up with his uncle's long ones. He held the stuffed rabbit close to himself, looking down.  
  
"Is he nice...?"  
  
His uncle didn't answer.  



	2. Destruction

I give a warning...  
  
  
  
  
Dowasure never had any siblings and wasn't prepared for the one that was thrust upon him. He was big and strong and didn't like him the moment he saw him.  
  
"His hair's too long. What kind've kid's got hair that long?"  
  
Dowasure wasn't sure how much older his new brother was then he was, but he knew he was old enough to be considered the dominant force in the household.  
  
The uncle who had been coerced into taking care of him made it very clear to him very early that he had been against this whole idea from the very beginning and wasn't happy with him at all. This wasn't helping Dowasure's self-esteem, which was plummeting quickly. This resulted in him forgetting things and becoming even more clumsy, traits that were not exactly endearing to his new family.  
  
It was also almost confusing. He always remembered having a father AND a mother, but his uncle lived alone, except for his son. He knew that in order to have children there had to be two people, that much he had heard at school. He was confused.  
  
Sometimes his uncle had a friend of his over, a man who sat and drank and talked very loudly and ruffled his hair very hard so that it hurt. Most people were instinctively cautious when ruffling someone's hair, particularly Dowasure's, but the man wasn't. He didn't like him. But his uncle, which for some reason never connected with the name "father" in his head, despite that was what he said he was whenever Dowasure asked him for something as a reason for ignoring him, kept inviting him over.  
  
Dowasure managed to get a room to himself, though. Mainly because his stepbrother refused to share a room with him. On those nights when he would sleep alone he would hold his stuffed rabbit in his lap, open the window, and untie his hair.  
  
Most people's hair, when tied back for a long period of time, would have some kind of wave in it. Dowasure's hair was too strong and too willfull. When the tie was removed, his hair flowed around his shoulders and fluttered in the wind. It reminded him of his parent's touching his hair softly, which no one did anymore. It made him kind of sad and kind of happy at the same time, an intriguing mix of emotions which made him continue doing it.  
  
Sometimes, if he was feeling adventurous, which wasn't often, he would open the window and sit on the sill. His room was on the second floor, so it was a long drop downwards. He would sit and lean on the windowframe and watch the moon move across the sky. He had begun to have trouble sleeping since his parents had first died.  
  
Before he went to sleep, he would tie his hair back. After having it back for so many years, he knew how to tie it back automatically and he knew how to tie it back well. His hair never came undone unless he wanted it to. Although his hair still flared around his head, still seeming curious about the world around him, he could at least control it through the tie. His hair seemed to understand that restriction.  
  
His uncle never seemed happy with his performance at anything. His schoolwork was always criticized, the attention payed to his poor english skills instead of his obviously exemplary mathematical abilities. His older brother constantly teased him about his long hair and often played cruel tricks on him. Dowasure was eventually forced to hide the stuffed rabbit in his room where his brother could not get to it and ruin that as well.  
  
Once, he had been stumbling through the house after being called by his uncle and had collided bodily with a cabinet.  
  
The cabinet dug rather sharply into his skin and made him cry out. It didn't alarm or worry him nearly as much as the fact that the vase that had been perched on top of the cabinet had crashed to the floor, scattering sharp fragments in every direction.  
  
Unsure of what to do and afraid to move lest he step on one of the shards, he waited, his sleeve covering his mouth. He wasn't sure what would happen to him now and he was frightened. He stood stock-still and shivered as he could hear his uncle's heavy footsteps coming towards where the loud crash had come from.  
  
After discovering the mishap, his uncle was unsurprisingly unsympathetic. Since he had knocked the vase down and the entire incident was completely his fault, he had to clean it up.  
  
Staring at the two tools that had been thrust into his still sleeve-covered hands, Dowasure was afraid to ask what to do. He didn't want to move, not wanting the shards to cut him. Apparently that was not an option as his uncle forced him to kneel on the shards and begin cleaning them up.  
  
He had never really experienced sharp pain before, not to this extent and not for this long. It was all he could do to stop himself from crying as he could feel fragments of the shattered vase slowly making their way through his skin and breaking the tiny capillaries underneath, causing his blood to begin to seep from underneath his knees. Keeping himself on his toes, he managed to keep the area of injury localized around his knees, but it was still extremely painful.   
He did clean up the mess as well as he could under his uncle's eye then sat down on the floor and stared at his wounds. He looked up at his uncle, who snorted, looked through a cabinet, and handed him a box of band-aids.  
  
The band-aids stayed on for weeks. At school, where rumors circulated the the freedom and nurturing that only children can provide, Dowasure couldn't really think of any excuse for what happened...he didn't want to say that he had broken a vase. He felt terrible about it. He claimed that he tripped, but he was fairly sure that no one really believed him.  
  
Sitting in his room, his rabbit in his lap, and gingerly peeling off the band-aids, he found that instead of healing cleanly like other injuries he had sustained had, they had left white raised markings.  
Confused and somewhat frightened, he ran his fingers over the network of white lines that now criss-crossed his knees. What had happened? Where had they come from? What...  
  
This must have been his punishment for breaking the vase.  
  
He truly believed that it was completely his fault. He had no reason to believe otherwise. While before his parents had told him that when he was clumsy or tripped or something of that nature that it wasn't really his fault and that he was okay. Without that vital support, he had lost any belief that he had in himself and found himself looking around his empty room, as if frightened that someone would see the horrible evidence of his wrong-doing.  
  
He spent the majority of his time in his room. He didn't want to go down and talk to his uncle or his cousin. They were only mean to him and hurt him. He spent most of his time in his room just hugging or holding his stuffed rabbit. The rabbit's fur was very soft and felt cool against his skin. It made him happy. It made him think of his parent's hugging him, which helped to keep him going in the midst of a world of horrific pain.  
  
Sometimes, when he was trying to sleep, he would take one of his two pillows and push it against his back, so he felt like someone was there with him. He still was uncomfortable sleeping alone, but was able to sleep at all due to the stuffed rabbit's influence. It was able to keep him quiet during the night, while otherwise he would have been thrashing and screaming with nightmares of an unknown source, dark flitting shapes and a purple-blue light.  
  
Nightmares or just a simple reluctance for his eyes to stay closed. He would spend those days on the windowsill, looking out at the moon. He was fascinated by it's progress during the night and across the sky. When it would finally disappear, he would go back to his bed and feign sleep. His uncle would come to wake him up and he would pretend that he had slept the night. He had gotten very good at it.  
  
He didn't get much to eat, his uncle didn't cook much and insisted that if they wanted food, they should make it themselves. Considering that Dowasure had been banned from the kitchen because his cousin and his uncle had decided, perhaps rightly, that having the clumsy child in the kitchen with the sharp objects might be dangerous, it was very hard for Dowasure to get food. He usually could only scavenge, perhaps a better word would be beg, for scraps that his uncle and cousin left for him. Because of this, his figure was slight and weak. He had always been a small child, but without the food that he usually got...he mainly sustained himself on the school lunches. His uncle had decided it was easier for him to buy lunch then for him to actually make him one.  
  
If he moved his arms far enough forward, his collarbones poked through his skin to alarming limits. Angling his body, he could see his ribcage clearly and his hips as well. His shoulderblades and his wrist, all his protruding bones clear to the eye. Another reason for him to wear his sweater. He was very self-conscious about his appearance. Also, wearing the sweater made him look bigger then he truly was.  
  
One night, a dark heavy night in the middle of summer, he could hear people moving around below him. It was a night where he couldn't sleep because the air was heavy and thick and scared him. It made him think that something was going to happen, like thunder and lightning. He sat on his bed and stared outside at the leaves whirling by in the air. He didn't want to get closer to the window because he was frightened that it might begin raining or lightning would strike.  
  
He held his rabbit in his lap and stared outside, perfectly still. An ability of Dowasure's was the ability to sit completely still for certain periods of time. Once he was truly interested in something, he would simply stare, lose himself in his thoughts, and stop moving almost completely. Sometimes he would even forget to breathe. Often, after he snapped out of these trances, he would find himself sore, his muscles protesting against having been held in the same position for so long.  
  
It was late into the night, when everyone should have been asleep. He knew this by the position of the moon. That was why the movement downstairs bothered him. He sat on his bed and kept his eyes on the window, sure that it must have been his cousin sleepwalking or perhaps his uncle getting himself something to eat.  
  
The air felt hot and heavy and seemed to stick in his chest and it made it hard to breathe. His chest hurt from inhaling the air. Another reason that he didn't like these kind of summer nights.  
  
He could hear the noises downstairs moving upwards. It must have been his uncle or his cousin. It must be. Just because he hadn't seen his uncle's friend leave didn't mean he was still here...  
  
He heard the footsteps stop in front of his door and felt a whimper escape his throat without his knowledge of doing so. His neck turned so sharply towards the door that he almost gave another whimper. It was stifled in the thick air. The darkness around him now seemed to breathe, seemed almost to speak as if to warn him. He wasn't scared of the dark. Not now.  
  
He was afraid to call out. He was afraid to move and begin to feign sleep as he usually would have at such noises. He was afraid to move. All he could do was stare at the door with his wide-eyes and hope that whoever was there would move away.  
  
His heartbeat was increasing steadily and it did not help quiet the pain in his chest.  
  
He could see the doorknob turn slowly and he held his rabbit close to his chest, trying to think of his parents holding him, protecting him from whatever was entering his room. He tried to block everything out, but he couldn't. He was shaking too much.  
  
He caught a glimmer near the door as it opened and the moonlight revealed the figure of his uncle's friend.  
  
Normally he would have been relieved. That would have been the normal reaction. But Dowasure's sense of fear, of danger had not been silenced by the appearance of this man.  
  
In fact, it had increased.  
  
The man slowly stepped towards his bed, as if thinking that perhaps he was asleep. His eyes were not accustomed to the dark as Dowasure's were.  
  
He couldn't move. He was petrified. He had to focus on something else, he had to get his body to obey him again. He had to do something...  
  
"Boy...?"  
  
At the sound of his voice, Dowasure felt a keening cry rising in his throat, but didn't let it loose. He barely managed to gulp it down, but the long pause that the action required caused him to give a short gasp for breath.  
  
"You're awake, eh?"  
  
Dowasure found himself shaking his head, although he tried to stop himself. The man, although he couldn't possibly see clearly in the dark, didn't turn on the light.  
  
"Come here for a second."  
  
He couldn't move. He couldn't even more his mouth to tell him that he couldn't move. He remained petrified, his body shaking uncontrollably. The pain in his chest was growing.  
  
"Come on, I won't hurt you. Come on, boy."  
  
He still couldn't move. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing escaped his mouth. The silence and darkness was screaming in his ears that he had to escape, that something wrong was going to happen, but he couldn't move. The same feeling of apprehension that was trying to warn him to escape had instead paralyzed him.  
  
He could feel a slight shift of the weight on the bed as the man leaned on it. Somehow, a noise made it's way out of his throat. A squeak.  
  
"You don't have to be frightened, boy. Just come here."  
  
He was not going over there. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice.  
He could feel the mans hands groping over the blanket until the came in contact with his toes. He tucked them even tighter to himself. This caused the man to laugh in an extremely unpleasant way.  
  
"C'mon, boy."  
  
Having judged where he was from the brief contact, the man reached out and seized Dowasure's upper arm. The fabric prevented him from getting a good grip, but it was enough. With a sharp jerk, Dowasure was pulled out of his protective curled ball and into what seemed to be a hug.  
  
The moment he felt his skin he didn't like it. He smelled strange and foreign. When his parents hugged him, they were gentle and it made him feel safe. This was not making him feel safe.  
  
Having been moved so suddenly, he had regained his ability to move. He pushed at the man's chest with no result. He felt two hands go under his arms and felt himself being raised into the air. He felt another squeak escape his throat.  
  
"See, fun, eh?" The man spun around slowly. Dowasure closed his eyes and wished that this would stop, the air would clear, he would be able to breathe and to sleep and he wished most of all that his parents were here. "No need to be scared."  
  
He spun around once more before putting Dowasure back down on the bed, sitting him upright. He must have adjusted to the difference in light now, as he stared directly into Dowasure's large, frightened eyes.   
Perhaps he had not adjusted well enough, because he couldn't see the fear. Dowasure hoped that something would make him realize how frightened he was.  
  
"Tell me, boy, how are they feeding you here?"  
  
Dowasure had no nerve nor any idea of how to respond. He just stared.  
  
"You're a thin thing, boy. Nothing but skin and bones." The man poked him in the chest, something that made Dowasure squeak again. "Bet you can see your ribcage, can't you?"  
  
Dowasure didn't want to agree to anything he said and hoped, as children will, if they ignore something they will go away. He wondered if perhaps he didn't talk at all to the man, he would leave him alone.   
  
He was wrong.  
  
"Am I right, boy?"  
  
Dowasure remained silent, his body shaking. He would have withdrawn into his sweater, but now found that he was unable to move again.  
  
"Let's see."  
  
The man took the edge of his sweater and lifted it, revealing Dowasure's small, bare chest. Dowasure felt a spasm of fear run through him, but still found that his body, nor his tongue, would respond to him.  
  
"I was right, you CAN see it. They don't feed you right at all, boy. Boy, you look like need some proper care."  
  
His touch was unpleasant. The man's fingers poked at the thin areas between Dowasure's ribs and lingered at areas that made Dowasure feel like screaming in fear. The darkness was doing it, but he was fairly sure that the man couldn't hear it.  
  
"You're a pretty boy. Pretty little thing with girls hair. You know that's girls hair, right? How it ever found it's way to you I'll never know. You sure you're not a girl?"  
  
Dowasure's tongue finally decided to work. His body wasn't going to stand for this anymore. He had to get him out.  
  
"Yes." His voice was quivery, shakey, frightened, and tearful.  
  
"You sure?" The condescending voice. "You know what makes girls different from boys, don't you? You know that, right? Have you checked?"  
  
Dowasure didn't know what he was talking about, but wasn't about to let the man check FOR him. "Yes."  
  
The man didn't say anything, only continuing to run his fingers across Dowasure's chest and midsection.  
  
The feeling was tearing him apart inside. He wanted this to stop. He wanted it to stop but he didn't know how to do it.  
  
His body finally decided for him. His arms pushed down his sweater sharply, pulling it away from the grip of the man and again protecting his chest. The man withdrew his hand and looked almost offended.   
Trembling, Dowasure scrambled away from the man, seized his rabbit, then curled up against the headboard, shaking and covering his eyes, holding his rabbit close to him, wishing that the soothing feeling of fur could erase the touch.  
  
"You're a silly boy." The man admonished him. "I wasn't hurting you. But since you're being so immature about it, I'll go."  
  
If he was hoping to make Dowasure guilty, he was wrong. All Dowasure felt was a great sense of relief as the man exited the room and shut the door behind him.  
  
The rest of that night Dowasure pushed himself into the corner of his closet, covered himself with several pieces of clothing, and shivered. He didn't sleep. All he could think of was the man and whether or not he would be back. He didn't want him to come back. He didn't want to know what else he had wanted to do. His chest felt strange and foreign and dirty and it hurt more then ever now. The rabbit only gave a minute sense of comfort.  
  
The next day his uncle yelled at him for being so hard to find. The only reason he had been able to locate his nephew was by the whimpering cries coming from the closet. When he found him, he was curled and breathing hard. Scolding him for being difficult and being a coward, he pulled him out of the closet and sent him to school, ignoring his shivering body and lack of speech.  
  
During the day at school Dowasure didn't speak. He sat quietly and stared at his hands. If whenever possible, he would hold his hands across his chest, trying to prevent anyone from seeing it or knowing what happened, even though that technically was impossible.  
  
He came home and went directly to his room, shoving a chair in front of the door, blocking it. Finding his bunny on the bed, he took it in his hands and walked to the window.  
  
In the tree outside sat a yellow cat.  
  
Confused, Dowasure stared at it. In all the nights and months he had stared out his window, he had never seen a yellow cat before. The cat had grey stripes running down it's body and blue eyes. It stared at him as if it knew him, then lept down from the tree. It jumped onto the fence and then disappeared.  
  
Dowasure didn't know the cat, but he felt as if the cat knew him. It was a strange feeling.  
  
He dreaded the night. He didn't want it to come. He didn't want another chance for the man to come into his room and tell him that everything was alright and he wouldn't hurt him when clearly neither were true. He was frightened and didn't want anyone to look at him anymore. He felt dirty. He shrunk deeper into his sweater and wondered if perhaps he hid under his bed, the man wouldn't find him.  
  
During the night, Dowasure sat on his bed and stared out the window. He noted at some points strange, quick shadows, not like those cast by clouds, darting across his window. This did not make him feel anymore at ease.  
  
He stared out the window and found a blotch of yellow. The cat was back. He couldn't see it very clearly, but he knew what it was.  
  
He heard footsteps again heading up towards his room and found himself again petrified. He felt tears building in his eyes, helpless tears of frustration and fear. He didn't know what he could do. He had to do something.  
  
The footsteps again stopped in front of his room and the doorknob turned. His body acted without his command, nearly falling off the bed and propelling itself underneath it. He stared outwards, hoping the man would not find him.  
  
Desperate for some way to make the man leave him alone, he looked at his hands, thin and delicate, with long nails. He forced his hands to attack his face, thinking that perhaps if he injured himself so, he would not be desirable anymore and the man would leave him alone.  
  
He saw the man's eyes meet his own from outside the bed. "You want to play some games, boy?"  
  
Dowasure continued clawing at his face, another small squeak coming from his throat. He felt the man's hand touch his leg and grip his pants. He had dressed himself in the biggest, longest clothes he could find in hopes that he could hide.  
  
"You're so silly. C'mere."  
  
The man pulled and Dowasure could feel himself sliding out. Frightened and panicky, he grabbed one of the bars that supported his mattress, leaving his face to sting terribly.  
  
The man continued pulling, using both hands, and Dowasure felt the sliding of elastic as his clothing slipped off. Another squeak came from his throat as he curled his legs to himself in an effort to prevent the man from grabbing him again. It didn't work. A hand closed around his ankle and this time there were no pants as a decoy.  
  
Pulled from underneath the bed, he found himself clawing at anything he could in an effort to stop the inexorable pull. He couldn't get a grip on the bars as his tiny hands couldn't match to the strength of the man. He slid out and the man again gripped him around the chest and lifted him upwards.  
  
In the air once more, Dowasure tucked his legs towards his body, trying to protect himself. The man gave him a frightening smile.  
  
"Don't worry, boy. I said I wouldn't hurt you, didn't I?"  
  
He didn't spin him around this time. He just put him on the bed, his hands on his shoulders. Couldn't he feel him shaking?  
  
Couldn't he see what he had done to his face? Didn't he see?  
  
He whispered to his parents, hoping they could hear him, in his mind. Please tell me he sees them...he sees the scars...how can he not? Please let him see them and realize where they came from...  
  
Pain rattled through his body as the man pushed him down on the bed so that he couldn't move. His weak shoulders felt crushed under the weight and he felt the pain in his chest flare even greater then before.  
  
"Do you want to play another game, boy?"  
  
Dowasure found himself shaking his head furiously and, without intending to, gave a small frightened scream. "NO!"  
  
Although before this the man had been trying to be nice to him, this did not please him. The man's eyes narrowed at the sobbing boy underneath him.  
  
"Not good, boy. That wasn't a good thing to do."  
  
The man's hand snaked behind his head and seized Dowasure's ponytail, drawing it quickly across his open mouth and holding it there. Dowasure couldn't speak, his hair choking his voice.  
  
"I didn't want to have to do that, but you made me do it, boy. You know that."  
  
Dowasure didn't know that. Pain was shaking his body, along with fear and disgust. He smelled foreign and he wasn't safe, he wasn't...the man was hurting him. People shouldn't be hurting him...  
  
He tried to choke out another word, but his voice was blocked. Had it been heard, it would have been "stop".  
  
"Now, listen boy." The man kept an iron grip on his shoulders. Dowasure felt as if his bones were breaking. "Listen good. We're going to play a game, alright? You're don't have to do anything. You just lay there and don't say anything, no matter what. That's what we're going to do."  
  
Dowasure shook his head back and forth wildly. Despite his inability to form words, he could still make a frightened, sobbing sound. The man applied even more pressure to his shoulders, making Dowasure feel as if the mattress was trying to absorb him and his shoulders were burning.   
"Listen to me, boy!"  
  
Dowasure continued to shake his head back and forth, refusing. He couldn't let this happen to him....he couldn't let this happen...  
  
There was a screeching yowl from outside his window.  
  
The man looked frightened for a few moments, then stood, releasing the small boy who retreated from him quickly. Noting his prey's movement, the man pointed at him threateningly.  
  
"Don't you move, boy! Don't move!"  
  
The man walked to the window and stared outside of it. He glared. "Just some stupid cat. Shoo! Shoo, y'hear me!"  
  
Despite his fear, Dowasure moved. He lept off the bed and tried to run for the door. Frightened as he was, he couldn't co-ordinate himself correctly. He stumbled into the chair he normally used to block the door and fell the floor heavily.  
  
The man turned.  
  
Expecting him to come stomping for him at any moment, Dowasure only shivered on the floor, clutching his arms and making small whimpers with his throat.  
  
"Come here, boy."  
  
Dowasure shook his head.  
  
"I said come here!"  
  
Although his voice had not raised in volume, the severity of the man's last words made Dowasure terrified. It reminded him strongly of his uncle, whom he found easier to simply obey then try to resist. He found himself standing, frightened of what would happen.  
  
"That's right, boy, you come over here right now."  
  
He was still an adult...and as a child, he had been told to listen to the adults. He took a trembling step forward and found himself almost falling once again.  
  
The darkness screamed at him. Why do you keep coming? Why do you keep obeying!?  
  
"Come over here."  
  
Dowasure slowly stepped across the room, his feet moving against his will. He kept his eyes strictly down.  
  
As soon as he was in reach, the man grabbed his wrist as best as he could while it was still covered by the sleeve and pulled him upwards by one arm. Shocking pain shot through his already wounded shoulders and Dowasure felt a gasp escape his body against his will.  
  
"I told you not to move, boy. That wasn't good. You haven't been good at all tonight."  
  
Dowasure heard another screeching yowl from what he hoped was the yellow cat outside. If the yellow cat knew him, maybe it could do something...someone had to do something, someone had to stop the man...because he knew now that he couldn't...  
  
"Not good at all." The man turned from the window and, still holding Dowasure up by one arm, something exceedingly painful to the shivering, shaking child, walked towards the bed again.  
  
There was a strange noise from outside the door.  
  
The man's eyes showed a great deal of alarm and he threw the boy onto the bed roughly, causing him to hit his head sharply on the headboard. Dowasure gave a sharp cry at this, which cause the man to put his hand over his mouth.  
  
"Quiet, boy, be quiet or you'll regret it. Stay quiet."  
  
Dowasure felt sick and shivery. He couldn't have talked if he had wanted to.  
  
The noise had stopped. Waiting for another minute, the man then turned back to Dowasure, taking the edge of his sweater in one hand again.  
  
"It's been a strange night, boy, a strange night. You haven't been good, either. You know what happens to bad little boys?"  
  
Dowasure gave a small shriek of terror which caused the man to shove the edge of the sweater into his mouth to silence him.  
  
"Quiet, boy! What did I tell you?"  
  
There was a rustling from behind the man.  
  
Turning slowly, the man almost screamed himself. At least, he would have if his throat had been intact.  
  
The creature that stood shrouded in darkness in the center of the room was nothing like anything else Dowasure had seen. It had long hair and two large wings coming from it's back. Not much else was clear to Dowasure, except that the creature had plunged it's hand into the man's throat.  
  
Stunned into silence, Dowasure scooted away from the two, noting the horns that came from the creature's head. Horns, wings...  
  
Demon.  
  
He heard a scratching at the window and saw the cat was there, watching him and watching the demon.  
  
The man gurgled as his windpipe was torn out of his body and thrown to the floor. The demon then seized the mans arms and held him up, much as Dowasure himself had been involuntarily suspended above the floor.  
  
"Persecution of the innocent." A strange voice seemed to say. Dowasure wasn't sure if it came from the demon or from somewhere else. "Destruction of innocence before it's time. Perversion."  
  
The man must have still been alive. He was still kicking feebly while the demon collected red energy around itself.  
  
"The payment for this is death."  
  
The demon put the man back down on the ground and then grabbed his hands. The man would have screamed if he still had his windpipe. The red energy that had been collecting now encircled his hands. Dowasure could almost see smoke rising. His hands were being burnt...  
  
With a cold, collected motion the demon whirled the man around and pinned him against the wall. At this point Dowasure noticed that there were two of them, the other having entered while he wasn't watching. He couldn't even scream. Fear had rendered him useless.  
  
He wasn't sure what they did next. It was something related to his head, but he wasn't exactly what. The man was still twitching, so he supposed he must have still been alive. Dowasure wasn't sure how that was possible, but supposed that the two demons had something to do with it.  
  
He heard something wet hit the floor, much like some kind of fabric, and a lot of liquid. With blinding speed, the two demons seized each of the man's arms and ran towards the window. With a sparkle of broken glass and loud crash, the two demons disappeared with the man.  
  
Dowasure whimpered again.  
  
A small meow caught his attention and he noticed the yellow cat had entered the room and was sitting next to him on the bed. It nuzzled his arm and then settled in his lap, purring. He pet it quietly and tried to forget what had just happened. He found his mind clearing and his heart slowing as he let the purring of the cat slow him to reasonable levels.  
  
He couldn't sleep that night. After the demons had disappeared, he heard some loud cracking noises from outside and a long sequence of dull thuds above his head, but he wasn't sure what it was. He didn't want to know what it was.  
  
When his uncle finally came in the next morning, he suspected nothing. He and his son were both heavy sleepers and most likely had not heard anything of what had happened the other night.  
  
The results, however, were plain to see.  
  
Dowasure, sitting almost unscathed on his bed, stared at his uncle with his eyes filled with fear. All around him, on almost every surface, the room was covered with blood. It even appeared that some kind of body parts were also strewn about.  
  
When the man's body had been discovered, nailed to the roof, his ribcage snapped open and his lungs spread inbetween the shattered prongs, his eyes removed from his skull and inserted backwards, his hands burnt beyond recognition, his arms skinned, his uncle arranged to have Dowasure sent to a mental institution.  
  
He was eleven years old. 


	3. Homeless

He tried to explain what happened, but that didn't help. It, in fact, only worsened the case against him. Demons didn't exist. It only brought about the belief that he was delusional as well as homicidal. No one believed what the man had done to him, either. He was already seen as insane before he even had a chance to try and explain. His stuttering and bad memory, due to his stress, didn't help make his story seem more believable. He would forget, or pretend to forget, certain incidents and when he was forced or reminded to reveal them, it made him simply seem less credible.  
  
One thing he didn't say was that he was sorry. Because he wasn't. This only furthered the belief that he had no regret and that he had done the murder.  
  
His uncle took him in the car and sat in stony silence while they drove there for the final time. Dowasure had been told to take all his important earthly posessions. This included his sweater, his necklace, and his stuffed rabbit. He had waved goodbye to the yellow cat as it sat in the tree outside. It meowed once, then disappeared. He was pleased that the cat had seen him and maybe knew where he was going. Then he wouldn't be alone.  
  
He hugged his stuffed rabbit. If he really thought about it, he could never really be alone. Not as long as he had his rabbit.  
  
That was one of the first things they took from him when he got there.  
  
Despite his young age and his lack of resistance, they took all possible safety hazards away from him, including his necklace. They claimed that his sweater was long enough to hang himself with and took that away too. They gave him a thin white hospital gown that made him feel cold and vulnerable. He couldn't help crying when they took his only remembrances of his parents away from him. His uncle couldn't see, as he had pushed Dowasure in, signed his name for him, then left before the entire debacle had began.  
  
Pushed back and forth and told in voices that were too slow and too patient that he would be staying for a while and that that was perfectly fine and there was no need to be upset, he was led down a metal hallway that made him feel even more cold then he already was.  
  
When he tried to speak, to ask for his posessions back, they would silence him, saying that everything would be explained. The fact that he didn't want anything explained, only answered, didn't stop them.  
  
They lead him to a room with a large door with no windows. The room had no windows either and no sharp edges. Everything seemed to be rounded or covered with something to protect it. From what...?  
  
They led him inside, showed him things like the bathroom and the bed, things he already understood, and left him inside while they shut the door. He sat down and stared at his knees, sighing. He then decided that, since no one seemed to be around, he could cry if he wanted to. There was no uncle or cousin to stop him.  
  
He really wanted to cry into his rabbit, but it wasn't there. That only made him sob louder.  
  
He didn't know he was being watched anyway, by one of the cameras hidden in one of the walls.  
  
He was alone in the room for hours. He didn't know what to do. There was nothing to read, nothing to play with, nothing of any interest whatsoever. He was bored and felt around the walls, but found nothing would break off for study and it only bent underneath his touch. He felt along the edges of the door and found that there was almost no way he could ever dig his nails into the crack and pull it open. He retreated back to his bed, if it could be called that, and curled up in the corner. The room seemed very large and very frightening and he felt very alone. He would have even preferred to have his cousin here instead of this constant, insistent silence.   
  
He hummed to himself and tried to think of some kind of song to dispell the silence, which was beginning to frighten him. He couldn't think of anything really definite, just tones.  
  
He played with his fingers, toyed with his hair, and stared into the wall and fantasized. At one point he began to sob and ask quietly to himself why they were leaving him all alone like this. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He never HAD hurt anyone. Why had they locked him away like he had? He hadn't done anything wrong...why was he being treated like this...?  
  
"Don't leave me alone like this...I hate being alone..." He breathed, wondering if anyone would ever hear him. "I didn't do anything wrong...I promise..."  
  
He rocked back and forth for a while, trying to lose himself in the repetitive motion, but found that his mind simply wouldn't stop crying. He eventually rolled on his side, then hid underneath the thin, solid blanket that had been attached to his bed. He hid underneath and listened to himself breathe, trying to focus on that.  
  
Even this, hiding from everything, could not get his mind off how unfair this whole ordeal was.  
  
He touched his chest and shuddered and began crying again. His chest felt so...so...so not his. Like it belonged to that horrible dead man. His chest didn't belong to him anymore...his body didn't belong to him...if it did belong to him, why was he letting these people do this to him.  
  
He sniffled and cried some more underneath the bed, running his hair through his fingers.  
  
"Wake the patient."  
  
The sudden voice made him gasp. He scooted out from underneath the blanket and curled into the corner, staring with wide eyes. He couldn't see clearly, as they had taken his glasses, but he could see vague shapes moving, at least three of them. He was torn between screaming in fear and screaming in relief that someone had finally come.  
  
"Looks awake to me."  
  
He huddled in the corner, holding his knees to his chest and trying to slow his breathing.  
  
"Don't worry." The middle blur tried to speak with kindness, but it didn't seem possible. It only made Dowasure suspicious. "We aren't going to hurt you. We just want to take some tests."  
  
Dowasure just blinked at the blur, narrowing his eyes in an effort to see it more clearly. The two blurs near it moved towards him and slowly came into focus. It was only when they were a foot away that he could see they were two males.  
  
Seeing them made fear rush through his body and he unconsciously screamed, pressing his forehead to his knees and burying his fingers in his hair, shaking uncontrollably.  
  
"I don't want to..." he tried to make himself sound strong and angry, but he only sounded frightened and hurt. "I don't want to play any games...I don't want to...I don't want to..."  
  
"We aren't playing any games, boy." The male orderly near his left said. At the last word, Dowasure felt panic rush through his body and he tried to run, remembering hot still air and words that also sounded so forced, so kind, and so cruel. Words that hurt, but not as much as the touch itself. He never wanted to feel that again...never...! Never!  
  
He tried to run but felt someone grab his arms, making him scream again.  
  
"Don't! Don't! Stop!"  
  
"For heaven's sake, calm down." The first blur spoke again. "You're over-reacting. Nothing bad is going to happen."  
  
Dowasure was pushed against a wall and his heart beat like the wings of a frightened bird. He gasped through his mouth, feeling the familiar sensation of a sob working it's way out of his throat. He let it go quietly and gave himself up for lost. He leaned his head against the wall, exposing his throat and, so he thought, his chest and cried.  
  
"Somethin' weird happened to this kid." The other orderly, the one that wasn't holding him, spoke to the first blur. The blur hadn't moved close enough to be distinguished from it's surroundings.  
  
"Of course something happened. That's why he's the way he is now. Locked in fantasy. Hold him still so we can sedate him."  
  
"Um..."  
  
Dowasure didn't know what to do. Fighting hadn't worked. Appealing for mercy didn't work. He didn't know what else he could do.  
  
The old adage about how if you ignore things they go away came to mind. Perhaps if he just didn't move, didn't think, didn't see, and didn't speak they would disappear...everything would disappear...  
  
He tried to draw his knees back to his chest but found this was impossible in his current position. This did bring attention to his wounded extremitys, however.  
  
"Scars. He's got scars."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"His knees."  
  
He heard some scritching and felt his heart throb painfully. He hated his knees and he hated himself for having such horrible knees, such proof of his own evil...of his weakness...he made another noise and then tried, to the best of his ability, to become completly stiff.  
  
"Don't hurt me..." Words that wisped from his throat softly. The room was deathly silent for a few moments and he felt as if he had said something wrong. He felt that his request would be answered by what he didn't desire and he felt more tears sliding down his face.  
  
"Look, we aren't going to hurt you, okay?" Since Dowasure's eyes were closed, the only way he could identify the speaker was by voice. The voice sounded as if it were being forced to be kind. Perhaps it was his youth that was forcing this kind of consideration on this orderly, which he felt somewhere inside him must have been a bit more cruel and bit more demanding to the other, older patients. "Just calm down, for god's sake."  
  
"Sedate him." The blur that had yet to be identified spoke again.  
  
"Fine, fine..."  
  
He finally opened his eyes and saw a syringe heading for his arm. Shrieking loudly, he tried to struggle free and found the orderly only tightened his grip painfully. His rocking efforts had momentarily stayed the syringe's progress while the orderlies stared at him.  
  
Within his body Dowasure had always had a terrible fear of needles, ever since he vaguely remembered having to have a shot as a child and being told that it was something else. He associated needles with lies and flaring pain and both of which Dowasure feared. His inherent reaction to a needle was to run. However, as it was he had no such option.  
  
"Don't! Don't! Stop!" He couldn't think of any better words to say. He tried to force his muscles to accumulate enough strength to break free, but they refused to listen to him. The orderlies grip was too strong and was beginning to hurt to such an extent that his muscles were trying to ignore his mind's commands.  
  
"Jesus!"  
  
"Hold him down if you have to!"  
  
With more force then the orderly probably intended, Dowasure was pushed back against the wall, unable to move from the sudden collision. If the drug that was injected into his bloodstream didn't knock him unconscious, the sharp contact with the wall would have.  
  
center~~~/center  
  
He woke up in a different room, this one with windows. He was glad just to be able to see the sunlight again, blurs of blue. After focusing his eyes as best as he possibly could, he found a blur sitting only a few feet away from him. Almost in his line of vision but not quite.  
  
He shivered as he remembered what had happened to him.  
  
"Are you okay now?"  
  
A voice that, again, seemed to be strained with kindness. As if it were forced and not true. It bothered him. He nodded fearfully, not sure what the response would be if he said no.  
  
"Listen, we just need to ask you some questions..." the blur flipped through some papers.   
"Dowasure, is it?"  
  
The blur pronounced his name wrong. When he tried to speak he found his mouth slow to respond, but he eventually managed to get it under control."You're saying it wrong."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You're saying my name wrong. It's not 'doh-wah-shure'."  
  
"Oh? Then what is it?"  
  
"Doh-wah-soo-ray." He pronounced the syllables slowly so that the blur would be able to understand. He could almost feel a slight sense of annoyance coming from the figure as they responded.  
  
"Do you know where your name comes from?"  
  
Dowasure gave the only answer he could remember. "Japanese."  
  
"Well, Dowasure..." Again the mispronounciation of his name. "I hardly think you're old enough to know much about another language."  
  
"That's the right way to say it." Dowasure was adamant on this point. He had often argued with his teachers on this very topic. "That's how my parents said it and they could speak japanese. So they knew what they were saying."  
  
"Really? Your parents?" The blur flipped through some more papers. "I thought you were an orphan."  
  
"I..." Dowasure paused for a moment. "I was, and then they adopted me..."  
  
"And then they died in a car crash, didn't they?"  
  
Dowasure stared at the blur in what he hoped was shock.  
  
"Oh, sorry, touchy subject. I forgot. Either way, you don't have parents now, do you?"  
  
Dowasure shook his head and tried to restrain his tears.  
  
"Now, let's get straight to the point." The blur leaned forward and stared at him steadily. "Tell me, Dowasure..."  
  
"You said it wrong again."  
  
"Dowasure." The blur seemed insistent on pronouncing his name wrong and this severely annoyed him. "Tell me why you killed that man."  
  
"I didn't!" Dowasure was used to this question and gave the only true answer. "I didn't kill him!"  
  
"Then who did?" The voice seemed quietly amused, as if knowing he was lying but finding such fabrications amusing. "Who did kill him, Dowasure?"  
  
"I told you already, the two demons did it, and don't call me that!"  
  
"The 'demons', yes." The blur nodded slowly. "Yes, I've heard about the demons. But who really did it?"  
  
"THEY DID!" Dowasure was so frustrated at their lack of belief in him that he started crying again. "No one believes me, but I saw them...they had wings and claws and everything..."  
  
The blur shook it's head sadly. "You still won't leave your fantasy world, will you, Dowasure?"  
  
"Don't call me that!" He shouted through his tears. "That's not my name!"  
  
"It's the name you gave me."  
  
"It is NOT! You're saying it WRONG!"  
  
"Am I?" The question was intended to make Dowasure pause and consider his words, but it didn't. Dowasure's response was quick.  
  
"YES!"  
  
Dowasure tried to move his arm and then realized at this point that they were tied down. The blur stood and walked away into the obscuring mists of his bad vision.  
  
"Listen, we're going to have you moved to a different wing, since you don't really seem to be a threat to anyone in your current state. Not to mention that's the only wing that has an educational facility, which you'll need...you're how old?"  
  
"Eleven." Dowasure answered sullenly. The more the blur spoke the more he began to dislike it. He didn't even know what sex it was, it's voice was indecipherable, and it was one of the many that refused to believe him. Not only that, it refused to say his name correctly. Even his cousin and his uncle had said his name correctly.  
  
"Right, you still have school to finish. You'll be moved tomorrow."  
  
Dowasure stared at the blurring window and found his eyes watering again. "Can I at least have my glasses back?"  
  
"You wear glasses?" The blur only sounded mildly surprised. Dowasure felt annoyance continuing to rise within him.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That would explain why you were always squinting at me. I'll arrange for them to be sent later. Is that okay?"  
  
Dowasure forced a pleasant tone into his voice. "Yes, that would be lovely."  
  
The blur returned back to it's previous seat and stared at him again.  
  
"Now, we're trying to help you. You shouldn't be troublesome."  
  
"I'm not being troublesome. You just won't believe me. I don't need your help."  
  
"Dowasure-"  
  
"It's not pronounced that way."  
  
"Why did you kill that man?"  
  
"I didn't kill him! And he deserved it!" Dowasure felt pain rush into his head from painful memories and leaned his head back against a headrest he just discovered was there. He let a sob escape his chest. "I don't want to remember why..."  
  
The blur stood. "You need our help, Dowasure. You can't deal with the real world this way..."  
  
He heard the door close as they left and raised his head again, staring out the blur of blue.  
"I don't have problems dealing with the real world..." he sniffled. "It's having problems dealing with me..."  
  
center~~~/center  
  
The tests proved that Dowasure's brain wave pattern, general chemical makeup, and overall behavior signified that he would not improve in solitary confinement. They moved him into a room that had a window, which was reinforced with bars, not nearly as much padding, and two beds.  
  
The first thing that Dowasure had done was walk directly to the window and stare outside. They had returned his glasses to him and for once the world almost seemed to be in focus. If the bars weren't there, then he could truly have a clear view of the world. But there was nothing he truly could do.  
  
Patches of almost dead grass, a solitary cracking tree, and other sights didn't particularly cheer his heart. The only thing that truly pleased him was the overwhelmingly clear view of the sky. He could finally take up his favorite past-time again. Watching the moon move and watching the sky glow.  
  
"Oh, we were told we could give this back to you." The orderly that had escorted him to his new room held out his rabbit by one ear, as if it were some dead thing he hated to have to even be forced to touch. Dowasure rushed forward with an incoherent sound of joy and hugged the stuffed animal closely, feeling a rush of comfort at it. He wasn't alone anymore...  
  
"They're going to find some room-mate who matches your brain-wave pattern for you, someone that won't set off...whatever." The orderly apparently wasn't comfortable discussing what had happened and abruptly turned and left.  
  
Dowasure didn't even bother trying to explain what had happened. They wouldn't have believed him anyway. He had learned that much. People don't want to believe the truth.  
  
They'd rather believe an eleven-year old child had mangled a full grown man rather then two demons. For some reason, it seemed more plausible.  
  
He sat on his bed and noted with pleasure that he could still have a clear view of the window.   
He wondered if the demons knew what had happened and would come back for him. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to. What if they tore him apart for some mistakes he had made in his past...?  
  
He brushed his fingers across his knees for a few moments and hugged his rabbit, feeling fur even through his thin hospital gown.  
  
Why couldn't they have given him back his sweater...? He wished he had his sweater. Although the smell had long since changed from his father to himself, he still associated his father with the sweater. He wanted his necklace back as well, he wanted to have his parents with him.  
  
He stared at the rabbits hard glass eyes which stared unmoving at him. He at least had this. This meant he wasn't completely alone.  
  
A room-mate...  
  
He hoped it wouldn't be like his cousin. Maybe he could have someone nice stay with him for once...that would be nice.  
  
He wondered if the cat could slip through the bars. He just wished that he had someone living, someone breathing, someone who would sit next to him and tell him it was okay. As it was, all he had was the rabbit, and it couldn't talk. It's mouth had been stitched shut.  
  
If it had a mouth...  
  
"I'm NOT crazy." He asserted to himself, not wishing to give into the delusions his mind was trying to make him have to justify this kind of treatment. "I am NOT crazy. Two demons came and killed him, not me. I didn't do anything and I'm NOT crazy."  
  
Saying this outloud with no one to tell him he was wrong made him feel better. 


	4. Tsukiyo no Kaji

Tsukiyo no Kaji. Try and name all da songs she sings. ^_^  
  
  
"Hanase!"  
  
A voice brought him awake from the slumber he had fallen into unintentionally. Jerking awake, he looked around the room wildly, fearing an attack of some kind. Finding no one in the small room, he focused his eyes on the closed door, deducing that was the only other place the noise could be coming from.  
  
"Hold her still, she's fast if she gets loose-"  
  
"Hanase! Hanase wo Tsukiyo!"  
  
The door to his room slammed open and two guards only took one step into the room before throwing their burden inside, as if they didn't want to have contact with her skin if at all possible. Glad to be released, their prisoner shot to the corner of the room, plastering herself against the wall, looking wildly back and forth, breathing shortly. The guards turned to Dowasure and spoke quickly, apparently worried that the girl would try to escape once again.  
  
"This is your room-mate."  
  
That was all they said before they deemed the risk of her trying to escape too great and shut the door.  
  
Dowasure slowly turned to the girl in the corner, who was panting furiously and gazing around as if expecting someone to attack her at any moment.  
  
For a moment, Dr. Dowasure couldn't believe his eyes. She had to have been his age or perhaps only a little older...but...  
  
She was dressed in the same kind of skimpy hospital gown that Dowasure had forced upon him, so he could see her clearly. Her hand, every inch, was covered with a large tattoo that continued upwards until it reached her elbow. It was a tattoo of raging flames that burned their way from her fingertips to her upper arm. The pattern was embedded on both of her arms and although they weren't exactly identical, they ended at the same place. Her feet were similarly treated, the flames rising up until the middle of her shin, even extending underneath to the soles of her feet to some point. Around her bright, sharp green eyes, the pattern continued, her eyes seeming to be the center of a raging inferno that had forever been placed upon her face. Her hair didn't deviate from this pattern, the tips of it blue, fading into red, then orange, then yellow, matching the color tones of her hands and feet perfectly and joining to convey the one message that Dowasure was sure that she wanted to give. Fire.  
  
She continued to press herself against the wall, then turned to stare at Dowasure, as if noticing him for the first time.  
  
Slightly frightened, he scooted backwards, pressing his own back against the opposite wall, holding his rabbit in his arms tightly.  
  
"Shounen wa...'tashi wo ageteiru desu ka...?" She stared at him, her words halting and unsure. "'Tashi wa motometakatta...tokateishitemo bishounen..."  
  
Dowasure recognized how the words were spoken as the language his parents knew, the language that had given him his name. Not sure of how else to react, he tried to speak. The fear and uncertainty he felt at the girl's presence made his shake. "You...speak...japanese?"  
  
She walked closer, her movements jerky and unstable, reinforcing his belief of her being a living flame. She kneeled on his bed directly in front of him, staring him in the eyes.  
  
Without warning, she suddenly changed her dialect completely. "But it sailed without a cabin boy, the age of twelve and three!"  
  
Dowasure blinked, not registering that she had said something intelligible to him. He had been expecting more foreign words and his mind wasn't prepared for the sudden change. He stared at her in confusion, wondering whether or not she could understand English if she could speak English. To be sure, he placed his hand on his chest and spoke as slowly as he could.  
  
"My name is Dowasure."  
  
"Dowasure!" She smiled at this, laughing slightly, and abruptly wrapped her arms around him. He could feel her skin against his own, which was very warm, and her fingertips on his back. "Anata no namae Dowasure desu ka!? Kawaii!"  
  
Two emotions clashed in his body at that moment. Being hugged, after such a long time, without having the inner feeling of suspicion, felt exceedingly good. However, his mind, having associated ALL contact with what had happened previously, felt only fear. He could almost feel her fingertips searching, trying to find a way to him, but he knew this wasn't true, it couldn't be true...she didn't look like the type who would hurt him...but then again, everyone had hurt him so far...but he wanted so badly to believe for once that someone would not harm him...would he be inviting disaster to ignore his common sense and trust her...? Or was he just too paranoid to let the fear dissipiate? What should he do? Should he trust her not to hurt him...or should he learn from his previous experiences that all people would hurt him and not trust her? And even if he didn't trust her, what could he do? He certainly couldn't fight her off...he was sure that she was as firelike as her name...how could he fight fire...?  
  
Fire only exists to hurt...  
  
But it only hurts those who don't use it properly...  
  
He didn't want to use people...  
  
People kept using him....didn't he deserve a turn?  
  
No one deserves to use anyone else, it just shouldn't happen...  
  
But it does, and there's nothing he can do except go along with it...  
  
He wasn't going to contribute to it...  
  
The argument raged within his mind, either side unable to win, and he finally couldn't control his confused emotions anymore, which took form in an audible sob, which he could feel shook the arms of the girl as they rested on his back.  
  
Withdrawing her arms quickly, she stared at him in confusion, unable to understand what affect she had had on him. She pointed to herself, flame colors standing out brightly against her pale skin and white gown.  
  
"Tsukiyo no kaji."  
  
Feeling embarrassed for not being able to deal with his own emotions, he tried to forget what had happened, tried to let it slip away from his mind. He tried to look as if it had been a temporary thing of some different nature, something that was not a sign of his distress.   
Despite his best effort, he was still sniffling as he rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands, feeling uncomfortable and naked without his sweater sleeves to use for this purpose. After drying his eyes, he glanced at her, trying to get himself under control.  
  
"Tsukiyo...?"  
  
She nodded and pointed out the window. "Tsukiyo..." She pointed again to herself. "Tsukiyo!"  
  
Dowasure looked out the window and noted the moon rising in the sky, smiling. The sight of the moon always made him feel more at ease. It also brought with it a sense of lost time. How long had he been asleep?  
  
"Kaji." She pointed to the markings that covered her arms, her feet, and her eyes, then finally flipped her hair to one side, causing the colors to weave and mix and flicker as if it were truly a fire.  
  
"Kaji..." He stared at her, unable to think of how she possibly could have done this to herself now that she had brought attention to it by her own will. How had she been able to dye her hair, much less get tattoos, at such a young age. Didn't it hurt? What did her parents say...?  
  
A small voice in the back of his head asked if she even had parents, but he tried to ignore it. Everyone should have parents...he didn't have any, but that was okay...but everyone else should...  
  
She had been staring at him while his face must have changed expression while he was thinking. Without asking or saying anything, she reached out again and touched Dowasure's hair.   
  
Again, at the interpersonal contact, an inherent fear reaction had developed within him that he couldn't control, and he began to shake. However, feeling someone run their hands through his hair made him feel as though he was safe once again. He could remember his parents doing that so long ago...and he could remember the man looking at his hair and saying that he looked like a girl...  
  
The emotions collided and again resulted in him beginning to cry once more, despite his best efforts not too, which Tsukiyo seemed to ignore.  
  
"Kirei..." She ran the strands through her hands. "Kirei, Dowa-chan..."  
  
He could at least recognize his name. He wondered if she could see his tears or if she was just feigning disinterest.  
  
"Can you speak english?" He managed to force his voice to speak, although it was quavery and far from it's normal power. She looked at him, smirked, then again sang softly.  
  
"The rain in spain stays mainly on the plain!"  
  
She smiled at him. "Hai, Dowa-chan."  
  
Dowasure was fighting inwardly with his own emotions. Inside, he wanted someone to hold him in their arms and make him feel as if he was wanted. Now that someone had come who had actually began touching him again, he felt this fear and apprehension seize his body, making it useless for him to resist, only signal his displeasure. Struggling to decide which emotion was his true self was causing him great emotional distress and he couldn't stop crying. And it seemed lost on Tsukiyo, who didn't seem to be able to keep her eyes focused on one thing for more then a few seconds.  
  
Tsukiyo muttered underneath her breath for a while, gesturing at the walls around her and at the door. Dowasure guessed that she was talking about how she felt about where they had been kept and it wasn't flattering. He wiped his eyes with the floppy ears of his bunny, trying to force his jangling nerves to calm. Without a set decision made about how to react to this stimuli, Dowasure was stuck in a middle ground, his muscles waiting for a decision that would, eventually, never come. He could feel stress taking it's toll and he began shaking again.  
  
The girl leaned against his legs and pointed at the ceiling, smiling and singing to herself again in her rare english voice. "I don't need an education, I learned all I need from you, they got me on some medication, my point of balance was askew..."  
  
She turned to him, her voice almost growing sad. "It keeps my temperature from rising...my blood is pumping through my veins..."  
  
She sighed deeply.  
  
"Kaji...kaji...ageshitai kaji wo..." she stared at her hands and sighed slowly, then turned back to him, her voice abruptly changing to a long, solitary note.  
  
"It's time to buurrrrrnnn!"  
  
With shocking speed, she changed her speed and tempo until it was almost unable to be understood at the speed it was going. "Burn, burn, burns the fix, tell me, do you really want to roll with this?" She pointed at herself. "The heat is on and it's time to move, so will you know just what to do? Temperature's rising, no way out..." She stared off into the distance, apparently losing herself in memories. "Gone to far, can't stop now..."  
  
She looked back at him. "So let me know if you feel it too, when the fire gets inside of you..."  
  
Dowasure stared at her in confusion. Her rapid changes from one mood to another was confusing to him and he couldn't understand what she was doing or what she was saying. He just blinked at her.  
  
She began to bob and move her head as if there actually was music playing. Although Dowasure could do the same, with imagining music, it never had the same affect as true music did. But with Tsukiyo...although there was no music of any kind, that didn't seem to make a difference. She seemed to be able to hear it and react perfectly, even if there wasn't any music.  
  
She turned to him and seized his hands, causing him to drop his rabbit, and she dragged him off the bed, smiling happily.  
  
He gave a frightened noise, almost like a yelp, at the sudden movement and the loss of the rabbit and stared at her in confusion as she whirled him around in circles, almost as if she was dancing.  
  
"Where have you been all my life? I've been looking for you!"  
  
She was shouting loudly now, truly getting into the music that only she seemed able to hear. "I want to dance through the dark into the daylight with you!"  
  
She let go of his hands, causing him to stumble backwards. and she threw her hands at the ceiling, her voice almost entering a scream, but instead hovering on that rare plateau between a shriek and song. "I WANT TO BURRRRN!"  
  
She spun in a swift circle, her hair moving as though it had a life of it's own, which was shockingly familiar to Dowasure. Watching her, he found her movements seemed to generate anger and frustration. Thinking back to her words, he decided that the few song lyrics that Tsukiyo decided to use must have had some meaning to her...therefore, in the song that she had chosen to perform for him, or so it seemed, she had put all her frustration and anger at...  
  
At not being a fire...  
  
The thought struck him sharply as she turned to him again.  
  
"Burn, burn, burn the wood, BURN! The rhythm's hard to ignore!" She turned her head towards the camera in the corner of the room, laughing almost insanely and then pointing at it, her voice rising again. "SET OFF IN ME, FIRE! I JUST DON'T CARE ANYMOOOOREEE!"  
  
She abruptly turned back to him, grabbing his hands again and lifting him off the ground, whirling him in a circle. Dowasure realized that he wasn't frightened anymore. He had almost expected the sudden movement and now that the shock was gone...he found there was no fear in him for her. If she wanted to hurt him...why hadn't she done it yet? He found himself inherently trusting her, although he didn't know why. Her voice was so quick he could barely understand her singing the next verse. It matched the speed and tempo of the first verse.  
  
"Let's make it special, on the dance floor! I could feel your vibe when I came through the door!"  
  
At her smiling face, the joy that was shining through her words and her eyes, he felt himself laughing for the first time in a long time. The sheer absurdity of what he was doing struck him and her happiness was almost overwhelming. It seemed this was the first time in a long time that someone hadn't drawn away from her when she tried to engage them this way...  
  
Where did that thought come from...?  
  
"Let's get it up, cause now's the time, I really want to make you mine tonight! Let's put in flight, you and me, on a fantasy!"  
  
She leaned close to him, smiling, putting a finger on his nose and smiling with almost...fire-like intensity. He stared back at her as her next words came to him, the meaning behind them clear as the moon.  
  
"And if you really want to learn...I'm going to show you how to BURN!"  
  
She grabbed his hand and whirled him around again. He laughed despite himself as she struck an elaborate pose, one hand in the air, aware of how obviously overdramatic she was being. She darted behind him and held his hands upwards, gesturing with them as if they were her own hands. He felt his body shivering at the contact anyway, but he struggled to ignore it as he heard her alter her voice so it was an almost perfect imitation of his own.  
  
"Burn, Burn, Burn, you burn me! Your body's talking to mine!"  
  
She let him go and moved back in front of him, spinning and seeming almost oblivious to him completely. He was almost glad for the lack of contact and at the same time, almost saddened. He wanted so much...and yet he didn't want THAT much...  
  
"Sizzling sensation!" She grabbed his hands again and spun in a circle with him. "Our bodies locked and in time!"  
  
She let go and pointed at him again. "You know we're going to burn, burn, burn the fire!"  
  
Turning back to the camera, Tsukiyo again threw her hands in the air.   
"Can't hold back anymore!"  
  
Her voice rose to the fever pitch it had gained before. "FIRE IN ME RAGES! I'VE GOT TO BURN UP THE FLOOR!"  
  
She slid across the metal floor with shocking silence and smoothness, her voice ricocheting around the metal walls, fury and anger and longing in her voice all to apparent. "BURNIN' THE FLOOR, WE'RE BURNIN' THE FLOOOOR!"  
  
She held the last note incredibly long, so long that Dowasure could only gape at her in disbelief. It held such pain and longing in it that he no longer had any doubt as to what she truly wanted...  
  
Tsukiyo wanted to be a fire.  
  
Angrily, she turned back to the camera, her voice changing again, apparently going into an entirely different song. "Do you think you can beat me, do you think you can beat meeee? Stupid @#% sucker shut your bad mother-@#$%er-"  
  
Before Dowasure could even react to the obscenities, the door to the room slid open and the two orderlies who had escorted her in before walked in. With blinding speed she was hiding behind him, shivering with uncontrolled rage and frustration, no doubt at not being able to fend them off.  
  
"YAMETE!"  
  
Dowasure wasn't sure of what to do, but having recognized that Tsukiyo was, much like him, in extreme internal pain, he wasn't about to let the two guards increase it in whatever way the planned. Trying to be brave, he remained standing in front of her.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"We need to take the girl."  
  
"Why?"  
  
The orderly looked awkward. "She's got a session with one of the doc's."  
  
"DAME!" Tsukiyo shouted from over Dowasure's shoulder. He felt her put her warm hands on his shoulders, a glimpse of the fire resting on his skin, and he shuddered at the contact involuntarily. "DAME YO!"  
  
"You best let us get her..." There was an awkward pause at the end of the statement. Apparently his bad reaction to a nickname beforehand had spread around. "You got a session coming up too anyway."  
  
"Why don't we take 'em both? It'd be easier." His companion spoke for the first time.  
  
"Fine, whatever. 'Kay, you're both comin' with us."  
  
"Tsukiyo, don't worry, they won't hurt you."  
  
Tsukiyo pointed at her head. "I'm not sick, but I'm not well! And it's so hoooottt..." She smirked at the guards. "'Cause I'm in-"  
  
"C'mon..." They grabbed her hand, cutting her off before she could finish, which infuriated her. She struggled against him so hard that she lifted herself off the ground trying to strike him, and the orderly was forced to hold his hand outwards far enough so that she couldn't reach him. She refused to even speak anymore, only striking out wordlessly and ineffectively.  
  
Dowasure, in contrast, allowed the orderly to take his hand quietly and began walking with him. Feeling another person's skin against his own almost made him feel revulsion now, a sick sense of emptiness and a tingling across his chest. The orderlies hand was, at least, not calloused or rough. Had it been, it may have been too much for him to take.  
  
Dowasure watched the other orderly take Tsukiyo off in a different direction, who had apparently broken her spell of silence.  
  
"DOWA-CHAAAN! DOWA-CHAN, TASUKETE! TASUKETE! CHIKUSHOUME, HANASE!" She kicked at the orderly without affect, looking back at him with pleading eyes. He then realized that he perhaps had been the only one who hadn't reacted badly to her, and she must have viewed him as her only friend.  
  
"Where is he taking her...?" He asked the orderly quietly. "I thought we both..."  
  
"Different doctors." The orderly again had an awkward pause at the end of his words. "She...needs a special one because she's so...active..."  
  
"Oh..." He looked back at her, shrieking and struggling against her captor, despite how futile it was, and wished that he could be with her somehow, if just to help her. He had a feeling she would be at the receiving end of something unpleasant.  
  
He paused, thinking about where the feeling had come from. He had barely met Tsukiyo, and yet he had this desire to help her, to soothe any pain that came to her. The feeling also made him feel somewhat at peace inside, something rare for him. He didn't know that helping others would make him feel that way...maybe that was what he should be doing...  
  
center~~~/center  
  
His session was the repeat of many conversations he had before. Again, he was asked why he had done something he hadn't, and not believed when he told the truth. He was tiring of having to constantly defend himself and he felt weak inside. How could the believe this about him unless there was some element of truth in it? Wasn't he as responsible for his death as the demons by crying out...?  
  
Momentary thoughts that soon met their death at the inner sense of satisfaction he felt at knowing the man was dead and he had gotten his revenge.  
  
There was only one interesting part of the session, which was when he brought up Tsukiyo.  
  
He hadn't meant to, her name simply slipped from him unintentionally. He was worried about her.  
  
"Tsukiyo...no kaji..."  
  
"Tsukiyo Yonagi, rather." The doctor who had been assigned to him responded almost without seeming to think. It was the blur from before, only given shape. She was female, apparently very sure of herself, and could not pronounce names for the life of her. The first part of the session had been him arguing with her over the pronunciation of his name, which hadn't been resolved. Instinctually, he felt he had said her name wrong, but since he didn't know Tsukiyo that well, he decided not to mention it.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"Having her own session. Don't worry about her." The doctor returned her attention to him. "Tell me, how is it working out between you two?"  
  
"She's nice..."  
  
"Nice..." She paused, then laughed quietly. "Ha! You're the first one to think that...most of the others try to kill her five minutes after they've seen her..."  
  
Dowasure could understand why THEY'd want to do that, but had no compulsion rising within him that agreed. He now saw why Tsukiyo was so desperate not to be seperated from him.  
  
"Why is she here?"  
  
"Mm..." She moved and sat down in front of him again. She never stayed in one place long. "Tsukiyo's one of our worst ones. She's completely insane, you know. Unintelligible, unco-operative..."  
  
"What did she do?" Dowasure had a feeling inside that she couldn't have just been commited here for being herself in general. She must have done something that set them off.  
  
"She's a pyromaniac, you know that, right? You can probably guess from the whole tattoo thing...she set her house on fire."  
  
Dowasure blinked.  
  
"Whole thing almost burned down, but her parents called the police. Of course, she thought it was great, she was laughing the entire time. Has no sense of human compassion, that one. Her parents just couldn't take it and sent her here. She was dangerous to them, you know. And their new baby."  
  
"How did she get those tattoos anyway...?"  
  
"Oh, those." The doctor almost seemed to recoil in distaste that someone had asked about them. "No one's really sure, but they say one of her older friends did it for her. Friends, feh. Anyone that old should have known better then to give her those tattoos, she's too young..."  
  
"Her friend? How old was he?"  
  
"Well, originally he was a friend of her parents, but she and him really hit it off...I forget what she called him..." She looked thoughtful for a second. "Jikei or something. Typical long-haired, trench-coat wearing, no-respect-for-authority kind of guy. Why her parents allowed them to be friends I'll never know. From what her parents told me, she asked him to help her "become fire", whatever that means, so he went to a parlor and payed for her to get the tattoos around her eyes and such. I'll never understand how anyone could have allowed that to happen! Why did the artist even allow that...? Gah, people are so irresponsible...luckily, before he could finish her parents found them and he was banished from the house...never allowed to see her again. She set the house on fire after that."  
  
Dowasure could see why. "Don't you think that's why she set it on fire...?"  
  
The doctor reached out for a moment, as if to pat his head, then seemed to remember something and leaned back. Her expression changed to that of a condescending adult. "Dowasure, you may think you know a lot, but we ARE the professionals here. We know a BIT more about this then you, and Tsukiyo is just so obsessed with fire she's a danger to herself and others."  
  
Dowasure looked off to one side. He could see it so clearly. He couldn't understand why they didn't see it...Tsukiyo wanted to BE fire, because fire couldn't be controlled...and she burned down her house as a show of power, that she was in control, and an effort to get back at her parents for banning Jikei...  
  
And, no doubt, the pyromania had a factor, but he didn't see it as the main factor. He decided not to argue about it, because the woman's condescending tone set him on edge.  
  
"What about her hair...?"  
  
"Jikei did that too, but her parents didn't really mind that that much. It would eventually grow back to it's natural color. It wasn't until he did something permanently disfiguring to her that they banned him."  
  
Dowasure sighed deeply. He could imagine himself in Tsukiyo's position, sitting in her room, perhaps crying into her aching hands, wishing for all the world that she could have control over her life and have her friend back. He must have been the only friend she ever had...  
  
He felt such pain at the thought, it was almost as if he was there, feeling what she felt. He could feel tears rising in his eyes, but he fought them back.  
  
"Did she always speak in Japanese or Songs...?"  
  
"Songs?" The woman blinked at him. "Oh, is that what that was? Her voice does get a strange quality to it sometimes, but I didn't think it was singing..."  
  
Dowasure couldn't see how she couldn't. The woman continued, seeing as Dowasure wasn't going to say anything else.  
  
"I'm not exactly sure...her parents don't even really know how she LEARNED Japanese...I think she was just so silent as a child, they thought she was mute, and when she finally decided to speak, she only spoke Japanese and song lyrics..."  
  
She got up and she went to her desk, flipping through some papers, finally taking one from it's companions and reading it quickly.  
  
"Ah, her parents told me that they noticed a marked change in her behavior after she heard one song...hmmm...I think it's...Light of Fire or something of that nature."  
  
Dowasure thought for a few moments...she had pointed at the window...then at herself...  
  
"Night." He found himself speaking although he didn't even know it. "Night of Fire."  
  
The doctor regarded him silently for a few moments then re-read it, as if he hadn't spoken at all.  
  
"Night of Fire."  
  
center~~~/center  
  
He was returned to the room first, only to find that it was empty.   
Worried for his room-mate, he walked slowly back to his bed, picking up the small rabbit from the floor, holding it in his arms, trying to let it soothe his beating heart.  
  
Tsukiyo no Kaji...  
  
He could feel it somewhere in him, telling him how she must feel...having lost control of her life so long ago, she wanted to be something impossible to control...she wanted to be fire because she would be in control and they couldn't restrict her...because fire was strong and could destroy and could be respected...  
  
He was curious about Jikei and wished he could have met him.  
  
He sat and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander for a while. He wasn't aware of how much time passed until he heard footsteps coming towards his room. Frightened, he backed against the wall and clutched the stuffed rabbit closer, not sure of what to expect.  
  
The door opened and again the vision of a flame being thrown in his room greeted his eyes, but instead of it moving directly to the back wall, it only flickered on the ground, refusing to move.  
  
"Tsukiyo!"  
  
"Nnn..." Tsukiyo moved slightly, her arm flexing so that the flames that had been put there flickered weakly. She turned her head slowly towards him, blue, red, and orange strands of hair falling in front of her eyes. "Dowa....chan..."  
  
Dowasure got off the bed and hurried to her side, falling to his wounded knees and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Tsukiyo, are you okay?"  
  
Tsukiyo managed to push herself up on one of her elbows, looking at Dowasure through tired eyes. "I'm...all busted up...broken bones and nasty cuts..."  
  
Dowasure could tell she was trying to sing, but her weakened condition wouldn't allow her this function.   
  
"Accident's will happen...but this time I...can't...get...up..." She collapsed on the floor again, unable or unwilling to move.  
  
"Tsukiyo, what happened? What did they do?" Dowasure grabbed one of her arms and attempted to pull her over to the bed, finding that although she was bigger then him, she didn't weigh much more.  
  
"Den...ki..."  
  
He managed to raise her enough until she rolled onto the bed, still refusing to move. Without her constant jerky motions, she almost looked like a fire that was dying instead of one that was raging. He sat next to her, not sure of what he could do.  
  
"Dowa-chan..." Her voice was weak and she reached a trembling hand forward weakly to grasp his own. Despite how small and frail she seemed, her body temperature still exceeded his own and he was surprised at how warm her hands were. "...what is...this weather...and what is this darkness..."  
  
"Don't try and talk..." Dowasure was worried for her, as the effort of speaking or attempting to sing seemed to be causing her pain. She coughed and doubled up, increasing the strength of her grip on his hand. She looked up at him for a moment.  
  
"And why...do I feel...so alone..."  
  
She closed her eyes then and fell into a restless sleep, Dowasure never letting go of her hand. 


	5. Gekkani no Kumori

Note - Not done.  
  
  
  
After sleeping for some time, Tsukiyo seemed to have recovered enough to have her old energy back and she was soon bouncing off the walls again. Dowasure couldn't get a straight answer from her about what happened, only cryptic lyrics again...  
  
"Electric...when we're together! So electric, feelin' like this..."  
  
Soon, Tsukiyo and Dowasure were allowed to mingle with the other patients, provided that Dowasure promised to keep an eye on Tsukiyo.   
Both of them were offended by this request, but Dowasure complied, even if it was just to see other people. Despite Tsukiyo's enthusiastic company, he still felt alone. He felt as if he was missing something.  
  
Walking through the crowd of other patients, they instantly moved away from Tsukiyo as if she truly would burn them. It wasn't fear on their faces however, but disgust. No doubt each of them had encountered the girl in their own way and not all of them had reacted as favorably as Dowasure had.  
  
"Dowa-chan!" Tsukiyo grabbed his hand and led him forward slightly, then knelt so she was near the ground. She lifted one of her firey hands and pointed forward. "Nagamete!"  
  
Dowasure looked where she was pointing and found a boy who looked slightly older then he was sitting by himself in a corner. His hair was a light lavender color, greyish at the tips, and it seemed to almost be in control, but not quite. A small ponytail curled on his shoulder and his blue eyes stared directly forward at nothing. That wasn't what caught his attention though...what caught his attention were the marks all over the boy's body.  
  
Over his limbs and his face, over what must have been his entire body, the boy was covered with dark black marks which reminded Dowasure of clouds for some reason.  
  
Tsukiyo seemed extremely interested and wasn't afraid to show it. She walked forward, putting one of her hands on her chest, watching the boy turn to face her slowly.  
  
"Tsukiyo no Kaji!" She smiled broadly. She pointed at him. "Anata wa...ni niteiru gekkani no kumori?"  
  
For some reason, this made the boy smile. It was a soft smile and Dowasure could already tell it was precious for it's rarity, even though he hadn't even spoken with the boy yet.  
  
"Hi...my name's Dowasure." He moved forward, hoping to lower the affect Tsukiyo would have on him in case he felt, like everyone else did, like avoiding the two of them. "This is Tsukiyo no Kaji..."  
  
"Really...?" The boy responded and Dowasure was relieved to find he spoke English. His voice was soft and whispery, like he hadn't used it in a long time and never for shouting or anything above normal speaking volume. "No doubt..."  
  
Tsukiyo smiled proudly.  
  
"And suppose there is a resemblance to...gekkani no kumori..." He looked thoughtful. Dowasure stared at him for a moment.  
  
"You know japanese?" He was again, immensely relieved. That would make the conversation much easier on Tsukiyo.  
  
He nodded and put a hand on his chest.  
  
"Gavin..." He turned to Tsukiyo and smiled thinly. "Although...your name...Gekkani no Kumori...seems more accurate..."  
  
Dowasure rubbed the back of his head with his hand awkwardly, looking upwward and feeling awkward for having to ask his next question.   
"What...does that mean...?"  
  
Gavin turned to him and again smiled. "Gekkani no Kumori...a Moonlight Shadow."  
  
Tsukiyo began singing to herself, her voice floating over the crowd that had gathered a short distance away from them.  
  
"The last that ever she saw him, carried away by a moonlight shadow...she passed on worried and wanting, carried away by a moonlight shadow..."  
  
Her voice, instead of the energetic voice that Dowasure was used to, was quiet and almost mournful.  
  
Gavin turned to him and held out one of his thin, mottled hands.   
"Now...it's Gekkani."  
  
Dowasure took the hand gently, noting how cold it was compared to his own. "Okay."  
  
Tsukiyo whirled in a circle slowly, completely losing herself in what she was singing now that someone had triggered it.  
  
"Love in the riddle that's saturday night, far away on the other side, he was caught in the middle of a desperate fight, and she couldn't find how to push through..."  
  
Dowasure and Gekkani turned and watched her, Gekkani having a sad, serious look in his face and Dowasure was just mystified by how slow Tsukiyo was moving and singing compared to her normal behavior.  
  
"The trees that whisper in the evening, carried away by a moonlight shadow...in the soft sorrow and grieving, carried away by a moonlight shadow...oh, she so wants to see the way that he's gone, far away on the other side...he was shot six times by a man on the run and she couldn't find how to push through..."  
  
She held her arms in the air, pain in her voice obviously clear.  
  
"I stay! And I pray! Seeing you in heaven...one day..."  
  
She whirled again, her hair floating around her, as her voice continued onwards with the song.  
  
"So again in the morning, carried away by a moonlight shadow, I watch your vision falling, carried away by a moonlight shadow..."  
  
She turned back to Gekkani, smiling to herself. Gekkani slowly clapped for her, as did Dowasure, until she abruptly jumped onto a nearby table and began shouting loudly.  
  
"OIYOI OIYOI OIYOI YEAH! I AM JANE AND I LOVE TO RIDE AN ELEPHANT!"  
  
Dowasure felt his face redden with embarrasment and he turned to Gekkani, hearing a loud crash and then some wild whoops as Tsukiyo apparently had pulled a light fixture from the ceiling by trying to swing from it. This didn't seem to faze her, however.  
  
"She does this a lot, she switches moods very quickly."  
  
"Like a real fire." Gekkani's voice was soft. "Not surprised."  
  
Tsukiyo was whirling the lamp around on the remnants of the cord and laughing hysterically. "Tarzan is handsome, Tarzan is strong! He's real cute and his hair is long! Tarzan is handsome, Tarzan is strong! So listen to the jungle sonnng!"  
  
She dashed over before Gekkani or Dowasure could move and grabbed them both, beginning the circling dance that she always did when she was overcome with one of her songs. The light fixture had dropped out of her hands and crashed against the floor with a shatter of glass.  
  
"Oiyoi oiyoi oiyoi yeah! I am Tarzan from jungle, you can be my friend! Oiyoi oiyoi oiyoi yeah, I am Jane and I love to ride an elepant!"  
  
She broke from them and proceeded to try and jump on top of a nearby couch, succeeding only in knocking it over and causing herself to fall against the floor in the process. Dazed for a few moments, she turned back to her companions, one of whom was laughing and the other looked confused.  
  
She shouted again, pointing in all directions. "GO CHEETAH, GET BANANA! HEY MONKEY, GET FUNKY!"  
  
Everyone was completely silent, staring in confusion and amazement at Tsukiyo who apparently didn't see any of them.  
  
"Uh oh..." Gekkani pointed to the orderlies that were coming to stop Tsukiyo, who was busy trying to rip the cushions apart for some song-related reason only known to her. "Looks like trouble's coming..."  
  
"Tsukiyo! Tsukiyo, come on!" Dowasure called in worry.  
  
Tsukiyo was amazingly good at making it look as if she headed over to them as a result of her dancing to the song, now decorated with strips of cushion around her hands and fluff in her hair.  
  
"Swing along, Tarzan!"  
  
She danced around Gekkani and Tsukiyo as if they weren't even there, singing to herself in an alternating voice between deep and extremely high.  
  
"When I am dancing I feel funky! Why do you keep ignoring me? Tarzan is here, come kiss me Baby! Oochie-koochie kiss me tenderly!"  
  
Tsukiyo darted behind Gekkani and Dowasure as the orderlies came closer and, amazingly, did not stop dancing or singing for one moment.  
  
"I thought you said you'd take care of her..." A hand was pointed in Dowasure's direction, one that he wasn't sure how to deal wih.  
  
"Tarzan is handsome and Tarzan is strong!"  
  
"I didn't know she would do this-"  
  
"Me Tarzan!"  
  
"Honestly, she just started so fast I couldn't do anything-"  
  
"He's real cute and his hair is long!"  
  
"I had no idea-"  
  
Tsukiyo draped her arms over his shoulders and grabbed his ponytail, waving it around and saying in a mockingly deep voice.  
  
"Long hair!"  
  
Gekkani had a hand on his forehead now as if signalling that they had completely lost this battle. Dowasure tried to gently remove Tsukiyo, but she ended up letting go by herself and continuing her dance behind them.  
  
"You have to control her, she can't just destroy things like this-"  
  
"Tarzan is handsome, Tarzan is strong!"  
  
"I really can't do anything, I don't tell her to do this and she changes so fast I can't do anything about it..."  
  
"So listen to the jungle song!"  
  
Tsukiyo stomped her feet repeatedly and whooshed her hair around in circles, creating a veritable epileptic-seizure-enducing whirl of colors. Unable to do anything else, the orderlies and the two boys stared helplessly at her as she began shouting once again.  
  
"OIYOI OIYOI OIYOI YEAH! I AM TARZAN FROM JUNGLE, YOU CAN BE MY FRIEND!"  
  
"Tsukiyo..." Dowasure's voice was completely lost on her.  
  
"OIYOI OIYOI OIYOI YEAH!" Tsukiyo, apparently for the finale, threw the strips she had wrapped around her hands into the air and gave one final, piercing cry. "I AM JANE AND I LOVE TO RIDE AN ELEPHANT!"  
  
"Oh boy..." Gekkani kept his eyes hidden by his hands as Tsukiyo looked around her as if she had no idea how she had gotten there.  
  
"EE!" She shrieked as she saw the orderlies nearby, grabbing Dowasure's shoulders once again and ducking back and forth as if expecting them to make a grab for her at any moment. "Dame! Dame!"  
  
"You have to keep her under control, okay?" The orderly repeated himself again, and Dowasure decided it was probably best to just agree.  
  
"I can try..."  
  
"Why did you come?" Gekkani finally spoke up again. This seemed to surprise the orderlies, who apparently didn't hear the pale boy speak often.  
  
"Well, since she's being so destructive, the doc's thought that some time in solitary might calm her down-"  
  
"IIIIIIEEEEEE!" Tsukiyo literally screamed in fear and clutched Dowasure's neck convulsively, almost near tears. Dowasure was nearly choked, but he allowed her to hold onto him. She apparently viewed him as her only protection.  
  
"I can take care of her." Dowasure managed to gasp out. "I can, really, you don't have to take her away..."  
  
Gekkani nodded, reinforcing the opinion, and finally the orderlies sighed and turned to leave.  
  
"If she destroys one more thing in those fits of hers..."  
  
"Don't worry, I'll be more careful..." Dowasure waved at them reassuringly and watched them leave. Behind him, Tsukiyo watched with wide, surprised eyes, then she hugged Dowasure wildly, nearly lifting him off the ground.  
  
"He's my best friend, best of all best friends, do you have a best friend too?!" She sounded near tears from happiness.  
  
"Looks like you got a friend for life there." Gekkani smirked slightly.   
Dowasure gasped for air awkwardly, both from the pressure and at the sudden close contact once again.  
  
"Tsukiyo...can't breathe..."  
  
"He's sooooooo sweet!" Although she was trying to sound joyful in her singing voice, her emotions took control of her and her voice cracked. She finally did break down and began crying, burying her face in Dowasure's chest. "Arigatou, Dowa-chan, arigatou...arigatou...arigatou..."  
  
"Thank you..." Gekkani mumbled behind him. "Thank you."  
  
center~~~/center  
  
Apparently Tsukiyo had learned something from the previous experience and quieted down some, sitting on the fallen couch and staring at her two new friends. She began talking rapidly, Gekkani translating for Dowasure who listened quietly.  
  
"Came here a while ago...they didn't like the singing...thought being alone would fix it..." Tsukiyo shuddered at this point. "Locked in a room...no one listens...no one can hear anything...alone in the dark..."  
  
Tsukiyo shook her head and pointed at Dowasure.  
  
"But you saved Tsukiyo from the lonely dark...thanks so much."  
  
"No problem." Dowasure smiled and felt relief in his heart at sparing Tsukiyo from what must have been a horribly painful experience.  
  
"...was in solitary a lot...everytime it was worse...most of the sessions are electric shocks...very painful...was alone, but now..."  
  
Tsukiyo reached out and took hold of Dowasure's hand, causing him to shudder slightly.  
  
"Now...no more loneliness. No more dark rooms."  
  
Dowasure smiled, feeling joy at Tsukiyo's apparent happiness. Gekkani looked at the two of them, his voice still extremely soft and unassuming.  
  
"You two are different then anyone else here so far..."  
  
"If...you don't mind me asking...why...are you here?" Dowasure faltered for a few seconds, not sure of how to breach what must have been a painful or traumatizing experience.  
  
Gekkani looked off to one side and gave one small, humorless laugh. "Jisatsumisui."  
  
Tsukyio stared at Gekkani for a few moments in what seemed to be surprise. Dowasure waited patiently for him to translate, which he wasn't wrong in doing. Gekkani returned his eyes back to Dowasure.  
  
"Attempted suicide."  
  
Dowasure stared for a few seconds, then finally ventured to speak again. "...why...?"  
  
"Reasons...?" Gekkani got a distant tone in his voice, one that Dowasure recognized him using when speaking to the orderlies. Tsukiyo stared at Gekkani in utter confusion, as if not able to understand what he was saying.  
  
Dowasure shook his head slowly. "Why did you stop...? Who was there...? What made you stop...?"  
  
Gekkani brushed some hair out of his face, a smile appearing that seemed all to cruel and somewhat ironic. "Got caught."  
  
Dowasure struggled to keep eye contact with Gekkani, who seemed very intent at not looking at him. "Was that all?"  
  
Gekkani paused and didn't answer.  
  
Tsukiyo looked back and forth between them, then waved a hand over her head and made a whooshing noise.  
  
center~~~/center  
  
As much as possible after that, Dowasure and Tsukiyo tried to keep in contact with Gekkani, who, although he didn't refuse them, didn't encourage them either. Dowasure was worried because he felt a pain in his heart whenever he came near him that he knew must have been because Gekkani was hiding something...his lack of first-person pronouns was enough to confirm something was wrong...  
  
Tsukiyo pointed to her head at one point in reference to Gekkani and sang softly. "There a war inside my head, if I take a day off I'll be dead..."  
  
Dowasure was increasingly worried by how deeply he could empathize with others. Other people couldn't do this, could they...? What if he really was insane...  
  
No. No, he wasn't crazy. He knew what he saw and he knew what was true, and that was all he needed. No matter what happened, he'd never change what he knew to be truth to a lie.  
  
In his next session, which was another heated argument over what happened and how to say his (and Tsukiyo's) name, the psychiatrist asked him something she hadn't before.  
  
"You know Gavin, right?"  
  
"Gekkani?" He responded automatically.  
  
The psychiatrist seemed pleased by this response and marked something down on her clipboard. "I thought you were involved with that. Could you tell me why he insists on calling himself that now?"  
  
Dowasure shrugged gently, the memory already fading somewhat from his mind. Although his memory was becoming slightly better, it still seemed to have large holes and he put a hand to his head in thought. "I...I think that...it meant something, but I don't remember what..."  
  
An image of Gekkani with one of the dark black marks over his eyes flitted across his mind for a moment, and he decided to ask a question that had been on his mind ever since he had met the quiet boy.  
  
"Why does he have those marks?"  
  
The woman was writing something down, but she looked up at his question. "Gavin, you mean?"  
  
Dowasure nodded.  
  
"A strange form of Seasonal Affect Disorder. Gavin is here not only because his parents were worried for him, but also because we'd like to study him to learn more."  
  
"What's..."  
  
The woman seemed surprised for a moment that he didn't know, then remembered who she was talking to. "Gekkani, at the moment, is extremely depressed by bright lights. The sun would make him curl up and not move, simply to overcome with sadness to want to live. He spent most of his time in the dark, without any light at all, and that's where we assume those marks came from..."  
  
Dowasure thought of the boy, huddled in a corner, limbs drawn close, in complete and utter darkness and felt another pang of sadness go through his body.  
  
"So you're responsible for his Gekkani thing?"  
  
"Well...I don't think so...I think...Tsukiyo came up with it."  
  
The doctor snapped her fingers and adopted a tired tone. "Should have known. Tell me..." She leaned forward and stared him in the eyes quite seriously. "Has he ever said 'me' or 'my' or 'I' around you two? Because you're the only ones he seems willing to take to...to everyone else he's virtually mute."  
  
Dowasure shook his head slowly and the woman sighed. "Why doesn't he say those?"  
  
"He doesn't have a very clear view of himself. Being in the dark so long did some things to his mind and he doesn't really think of himself as existing anymore as a being, but rather as a consciousness to watch others."  
  
Dowasure again found, much like her analysis of Tsukiyo, a flaw that he could easily see. Gekkani didn't think he didn't exist...he made a conscious effort to avoid all first-person pronouns...it wasn't induced by some psychological problem. And Dowasure doubted that, if Gekkani could only truly be happy in darkness, that the dark could have some adverse affect on him.  
  
"How is Tsukiyo, by the way? Is she speaking intelligibly?"  
  
Dowasure tried to keep the edge of annoyance that always crept into his voice when people spoke of Tsukiyo as being insane or some kind of thing out of his voice. "She always has."  
  
The woman stared at him for a few moments, then decided to rephrase her question. "Is she speaking english?"  
  
Dowasure nodded, knowing the reaction the woman would have.  
  
"Really? She's stopped speaking Japanese? What has she said?"  
  
Dowasure smiled softly to himself, singing for the first time in what felt like years. "Oiyoi oiyoi oiyoi yeah, I am Jane and I love to ride an elephant."  
  
The doctor sighed heavily and turned away from him.  
  
"There are others too, want to hear them?" Dowasure had a good memory for songs, although not for much else.  
  
"Have to increase the voltage..." The woman mumbled to herself, then waved off to one side where one of the orderlies waited. "Take him out, we're done."  
  
center~~~/center  
  
When he returned to his room, he found Tsukiyo sitting and rocking back and forth on his bed, singing in a surprisingly deep, melodic voice.   
  
"Kaze no uta ga...kokoro o furuwaseru...ima wa me o tojite, toki o wasurete miru...kurai sora o...honoo ga someteyuku....subete yakitsukushite! ...Yasuragi ni kaesu..."  
  
Dowasure could hear her voice from some distance away, which was what no doubt had attracted Gekkani. He could hear his voice coming from behind him and although it was sudden and unexpected, it didn't frighten him. It was almost as if Gekkani's voice COULDN'T be frightening.  
  
"The song of the wind shakes the heart...would close the eyes for now, and forget about the time that goes on...flames color the dark sky...burn everything, and let them go back to the calmness."  
  
Dowasure turned and watched Gekkani enter his room without any pause whatsoever, as if some barrier had psychically been breached by mentioning his name in his session. Dowasure followed him inside, noting that Tsukiyo had her eyes shut tightly closed and was rocking back and forth without any sign of knowing them being there.  
  
"Namae mo shiranai hana ga....tatakai no akai hi ni tsutsumareru..."  
  
This was worrying Dowasure, as he had never seen Tsukiyo sing a song with such seriousness and in such a way. He knelt near her on the bed and touched her shoulder gently, causing her to jump and give a surprised noise. Seeing that it was Dowasure, she was visibly relieved.  
  
Gekkani walked to the window, translating as if he was the one who was speaking.  
  
"A flower that so that...you even don't know its name....is being enveloped in the red fires of war..."  
  
"Tsukiyo, are you okay? What happened?"  
  
Tsukiyo looked at Gekkani and seemed to sigh for a moment. As she spoke, Gekkani translated her words for Dowasure.  
  
"He's not translating it exactly, but it's close. He doesn't like..." Gekkani smiled for a few moments. "'watashi' or 'boku'."  
  
Dowasure could guess what those two words meant.  
  
"Anyway...yelled at for singing...shot with electricity...locked in a room for an hour with no light...same old thing." Tsukiyo smiled almost painfully at Dowasure. "How about you, Dowa-chan?"  
  
"Tsukiyo..." Dowasure felt tears rising in his eyes at the fake happiness she was putting forth when so much sadness seemed to be flowing into his heart. "Tsukiyo, you take such pain and you keep smiling...how...?"  
  
Gekkani sat down next to them on the bed, waiting for Tsukiyo to finish before speaking.  
  
"You can take the pain and die...you can take the pain and return it...you can take the pain and nullify it by not registering it...it's a choice."  
  
Dowasure sat and sighed, staring at his hands and again feeling a dark, oily feeling on his chest that made him feel dizzy. For a few moments he couldn't see, his vision blacked out, but it eventually passed.   
Looking at his hands caused him so much pain...  
  
"You...you're doing even more by trying to stop it..."  
  
Tsukiyo leaned against the wall and waved her hands back and forth slowly, singing again in a mournful kind of way. "My sweet prince...you are...the one...my sweet prince...you are the one..."  
  
Gekkani sighed himself as well.  
  
"Did they ask about...?"  
  
Dowasure was confused for a moment to hear Gekkani speak when he wasn't translating, but soon caught on. "Ask about you?"  
  
"Lately, they've been asking why..."  
  
"Where Gekkani no Kumori came from..." Dowasure was slightly frightened for a moment that Gekkani would be resentful if he finished his sentences for him, but in contrast Gekkani seemed almost relieved. He nodded, his soft lavender hair floating about his face in a way that seemed almost identical to Dowasure and Tsukiyo's.  
  
"Won't say." Gekkani looked off. "Did they ask you?"  
  
Dowasure nodded. "I...couldn't remember exactly, but I mentioned Tsukiyo and such."  
  
Tsukiyo nodded.  
  
"That must have been why...they asked those questions today..." Gekkani translated for her. She also seemed relieved that now she could express herself in such a way that Dowasure could understand her.  
  
"What else...?" Gekkani's eyes flicked to his for but a moment, then returned to the wall where Gekkani was steadily staring.  
  
"They asked...if Tsukiyo was speaking English-"  
  
She laughed at that.   
  
"And...how you were..."  
  
This time the boy laughed.  
  
"And I asked some things myself..."  
  
Gekkani nodded. "Ditto...you saw demons...?"  
  
Dowasure didn't want to get into this argument with his new friends and he didn't want them to think him a liar. But he didn't know what else to do, since the truth didn't seem to be the truth anymore...  
  
"Yes...I saw them..." Tears flowed slowly down Dowasure's face. "I saw them and they...did it all, I know I saw them but no one believes me..."  
  
"Dowa-chan..." Tsukiyo reached out and wiped away the fallen tears, causing Dowasure too react even worse considering he was trying to remember what had happened.  
  
Gekkani looked at Tsukiyo, then the two both met gazes with Dowasure. A pale boy with dark markings all over his body and a girl who had fire written in her very skin. "We believe you."  
  
Dowasure normally would have felt overjoyed, but instead this only fueled his sadness and he began sobbing in earnest. "Why? No one else does..."  
  
"You haven't lied before."  
  
Dowasure now wanted someone to hold him, to tell him that it was okay, that he was right, and he wanted Tsukiyo and Gekkani to hold him, but the inner sense of fear and disgust for himself wouldn't allow himself to even ask, and if it happened...his body wouldn't allow it for long, he knew it. So as a weak alternative, he curled into a ball and shivered, trying to force himself to calm.  
  
"Dowasure...we trust you." Gekkani and Tsukiyo moved closer, but didn't touch him as he so badly wanted and feared. "You've been our only friend here who hasn't ran away from us. We believe you..."  
  
Tsukiyo mumbled something under her breath which caused Gekkani to laugh slightly. "Now, if only the demons would come back to get us out of here..." 


	6. The Touch of a Butterfly

Tsukiyo mumbled something under her breath which caused Gekkani to laugh slightly. "Now, if only the demons would come back to get us out of here..." "But..." Gekkani spoke in his own voice and touched Dowasure's shoulder gently, causing him to flinch and look up. Brown eyes met light blue. "Can...you say why...they attacked him...?" Dowasure shuddered heavily and clutched his arms closer around his chest, wishing he could squeeze the memories and the experience from his body, wishing that he could forget but he knew he never could. He wished that it had never happened... "He..." His voice was choked and soft, barely intelligible. "He..." "Dowa-chan..." Tsukiyo's voice radiated concern. "If it's too hard..." He had to tell someone the truth...because if he didn't, no one would ever know... "He....t...t-touched...me...." Gekkani leaned back for a moment, blinking wildly, and Tsukiyo made a furious, raging sound and turned towards the wall, clenching her hand into a fist and slamming it into the wall with all her force. "KYAAAAA!" Dowasure could almost hear her bones breaking and it shocked him, causing him to sit up. "Tsukiyo, don't!" Tsukiyo had tears falling from her eyes, which seemed so out of place at the look of absolute perfect fury on her face. She stared at the wall which had a small dent in it as her work, not nearly as much as she probably wanted. She began shouting, her voice cracked and so uncontrolled it fluctuated rapidly from extreme to extreme. Gekkani had hidden his face, but he spoke for her anyway. "That's not fair! Not fair! This shouldn't ever happen and it never should have happened to you, never ever ever! Not to someone like you, not to someone like you who's so innocent and trusting and now he's ruined you, ruined you for everyone else because we can see you shake when we touch you! You're afraid of something that we know you want and he has no right to take that from you! He has NO RIGHT!" Tsukiyo kicked the wall with equal force, although her foot didn't suffer as badly as her hand. She was still screaming angrily at the top of her lungs. "He has no RIGHT to think he owns you, no one ever owns you! No one can own you, Dowa-chan, but he's done it, he's done it, he's made you scared of something you should love and we know that he knew it too! GOD! Wish he would DIE!" Dowasure ventured to speak softly, shocked at her reaction. In all the time after it had happened, no one had ever gotten angry for him. No one had ever been furious in his name, but Tsukiyo had the flowing, burning hate that he had hidden in his heart for the man and she wasn't afraid to show it. "He...did die..." Tsukiyo kicked the wall with both her feet at every word, punctuating it with furious shrieks. Gekkani's voice rose in response to hers, although it didn't carry the furious anger that hers did. "He didn't die slow enough!" "Tsukiyo..." Dowasure wanted to tell her to calm down, but he found her anger soothing in the fact that someone was angry. It was a relief, a feeling of not being alone, and he wasn't sure he wanted to lose that. But he was worried that she would lose control completely and maybe hurt herself for him, and he didn't want that...."Tsukiyo, please calm down..." "Dowa-chan!" She turned and grabbed his shoulders for a moment, staring directly into his eyes. He was too startled to think of being frightened. "Dowa-chan, there was something different about you...it's here." She touched her chest. "You're different, you're different because you refuse to follow everyone else...and you almost lost that because of someone who couldn't think of anyone other then themselves...it's...inexcusable! That's what it is! UNBELIEVABLE!" She kicked at the wall again in fury. Dowasure stared at her helplessly, not sure of what he could do. "Tsukiyo, don't hurt yourself, please..." "He's right, Tsu." Gekkani touched her back softly. "He doesn't want you hurt..." Tsukiyo turned towards Dowasure, her fury gone and replaced by sadness of such an extreme that Dowasure was taken back momentarily and felt an equal emptiness in his soul to hers, an equal feeling of justice not served. Clear drops of water ran from her eyes down the markings around them, shifting color until they touched her true skin and fell. "Dowa-chan, you were the only one who would be friends with a fire...the only one who knew that it isn't dangerous...you're the only one who knows why this fire exists and why it burns, the only one since Jikei..." She sobbed for a moment, but bit it back savagely. "You're probably the best friend a fire ever had...for a long time...never ever, never ever want to see you hurt. Dowa-chan, no one should ever hurt you...it's not fair..." "Tsukiyo..." Dowasure felt awkward. He had never expected this strong a reaction from her. "You saved the fire from the all encompassing darkness and the loneliness...we're friends for life now..." Tsukiyo rubbed at her eyes uselessly. "I know I could never be Jikei to you..." Dowasure held out a hand. "But I wish I could have met him. He made you what you are now, and I thank him for that..." Tsukiyo stared at him with blank incomprehension, seemingly unable of understanding what he was saying. The sheer surprise on her face was enough to assert the fact for Dowasure that no one had ever said that to her before. "Everytime...when we think you've said what no one else has...you surprise us..." Gekkani finally uncovered his eyes and stared at the two of them. "Gekkani, I'm glad you're still alive...it doesn't matter to me that you tried to die or why...what matters is that you're here now..." Dowasure took his hand, which was so cold and smooth, and fought back the reactions in his body. He took Tsukiyo's hand, who's warmth never ceased to surprise him. "I'm so happy that I'm not alone here anymore...you're the only ones who have ever believed me..." "You're..." Gekkani was staring at him quietly, silent disbelief flickering around his face. "You're the first person that hasn't hated...a...a kumori...for trying to die..." "Dowa-chan..." Tsukiyo blinked at him, her eyes losing the moisture they were building and returning to their normal, sparkling appearance. She sang softly. "I don't believe that anybody...feels the way I do...about you now...because maybe...you're going to be the one that saves me..." She then smiled and sang in a completly different tone. "Earth wind water and fire...can't get in the way when I'm running to you, cause I would ride through stormy weathers just to show you how much I love you..." She seemed to perk up, but only slightly. Her voice seemed unnaturally high as she smiled painfully at Dowasure. "I love your eyes, I love your smile, I love your funky hair..." Dowasure laughed slightly as she continued. "I love your walk, I love your talk, and the things you dare!" She smiled at him again, changing her voice and pitch with such suddenness it made him jump. "Ai no sekai no kaeru..." "A love that changed the world..." Gekkani looked at her, then looked at Dowasure. He extended his mottled hand towards Tsukiyo, who put out her own flame-covered one and took hold of his authoritatively. Sitting in a small circle, the pain that had been revealed seemed to slowly fade away. Dowasure felt a peace enter him, pricking at the edge of the dark blackness around his heart and he almost felt safe, for once. Then the orderlies returned. 

~~~

Dowasure didn't see Tsukiyo for almost the entire rest of the day. He spoke with Gekkani about it, but he didn't know what happened either. His latest session with the doctor changed nothing, but it never had originally. They still refused to pronounce his name right under the thought that because he was a child, he was wrong, and it bothered him. He sat alone in his room, holding his stuffed rabbit close to him. That was the only thing that didn't garner the fear response that had been so deeply ingrained. He wasn't frightened of the rabbit because he knew it wouldn't hurt him. It wasn't alive. It couldn't hurt him, and thus he could be close to it. Getting up slowly and putting the rabbit back in his bed, he let his feet gingerly touch the cold metal floor. It never failed to surprise him, and they didn't allow them shoes because they could be used as weapons...or so they said... He walked to the window and stopped, putting his hands on the cold metal of the bars. The cold flooded through his hands at the touch of metal and he felt a brief burning sensation in response, something he never quite understood. The burning soon faded and all that was left was cold, and that much he could endure. He knew his own body heat would eventually make it easier to hold on to, just as the extended period of time his feet were on the floor made it easier to stand on. His heat helped the metal lose some of it's frigidity, and so he found it advantageous to usually stay still. He kept his hands on the bars and stared outside at the dark, dead surroundings. It was nearing sundown, when they would soon be put to sleep, and he was worried for Tsukiyo. The last time they had taken her away, she was so weak she couldn't walk. He was worried that one time she wouldn't come back at all, and that frightened him. He felt his body shiver despite his best efforts at the possibility. Tsukiyo was one of his only friends...she was one of the few who believed what had happened...he couldn't lose her...he couldn't lose someone he loved again...not again... Dowasure sighed and let his eyes stay on the dead, cracked tree that was near the corner of one of the walls. He could feel it giving up it's life, assured in the knowledge of it's own destruction. He felt sadness rise in his heart again at the thought. A small flash of color caught his attention near one of the walls. For a moment it looked like a bright splotch of green, but when he looked fully, all he saw was a fluttering collection of colors he knew to be a butterfly. Not sure of what he was doing, he let his hands go through the gap between the bars, letting his arms rest on the cold metal beneath. Another shock went through him and he felt the hairs on his body rising, but he ignored it. He let his hand fall near the wall, not moving, hoping... The butterfly moved towards him as if he had been it's destination the entire time and slowly rested on his hand, it's small legs clinging to it's fingers. It slowly fluttered it's wings, opening and closing them slower and slower until it finally settled. Dowasure felt tears rising into his eyes and he could not explain why. The delicate beauty of the butterfly that had chosen to rest on him, of all places, reminded him of how much he believed he didn't deserve it. The butterfly waved it's antennae slowly in the wind and he stared at it, unbelieving. No insect had ever stayed on him for any long period of time, much less the beautiful ones such as butterflies or moths. Now one was sitting on his hand, so brightly colored that to compare it to his surroundings would be enough to blind. It was strange, to feel it's tiny legs finding the grooves that made his fingerprints and clinging so tightly, so tightly as if Dowasure was it's last bastion of safety in the world. He coughed slightly, worried that the insect would flutter away, but it only closed it's wings in response to the noise. He found his voice small and thin, yet with a strain of hope he hadn't heard in a long time. "If you can come in here..." The butterfly opened it's wings, showing again a bright flash of color. "Then I can come out..." THe butterfly crawled further up his hand, sitting at the joint of his thumb near his wrist, opening and closing it's wings constantly. He watched it and found there was nothing in the world he would want more then the insect to stay, to stay with him, to stay and remind him that there was beauty in the world, when everything seemed so cold and dark. He felt it's wings growing in speed and slowly the butterfly lifted itself away from his skin, moving upwards until it hovered near his face, it's wings beating so quickly it was hard to see the individual colors. He stared at it, feeling a tear fall down his face as the butterfly flew away, ducking high and low at such random intervals, as if looking for something, then finally disappearing over the wall. He wanted to cry, to scream, to wonder why such beauty had to leave him, but he knew better...he knew better. 

~~~

Tsukiyo returned when he was curled in his bed, asleep. He heard the door open and close and the thud of a body being thrown inside and he sat awake instantly, staring wildly around for a moment and crying involuntarily, remnants of the nightmare he had been having still within his mind. He could spot her brightly colored hair on the floor, flickering as she twitched, trying to move. The moonlight from the one window also illuminated her figure, which now looked pitifully small and weak. "Tsukiyo..." He walked across the cold floor, kneeling beside her as he had before. Tsukiyo turned her head towards him, her face still almost obscured by the cloud of fire that hung in front of it. "Dowa-chan...'tashi no tomodachi..." "Tsukiyo, c'mon, I'll help you get to bed..." He lifted her off the floor, finding her surprisingly light and still surprisingly warm. He forced himself to put her arm around his shoulders, ignoring his shivering response, and she leaned on him while he walked with her, her feet refusing to move. She smiled at him. "Tomodachi..." Dowasure didn't know what she was saying, but he nodded anyway, and she sounded pleased. She began singing again softly. "I want to go to a land beyond dreams...where everything's new...not really what it seems..." Dowasure nodded again, his heart beating so quickly he thought it would burst. Worry and sadness for the torment that Tsukiyo seemed to constantly be in made his chest hurt. She changed her tone again, this time singing with an almost bright, airy tone, the best she could manage. "Aiyaiyai, I'm your little butterfly..." Dowasure stopped instantly, staring at her and feeling tears well up in his eyes at the memory of the butterfly that had, for that precious moment, made him feel so wanted. "Green, black, and blue making colors in the sky..." "Tsukiyo...how...?" Dowasure couldn't believe that she knew what he had seen...that was the only explanation he could think of...how else could she have known about the butterfly...? "I've been searching for a man all across Japan...just to find, to find my samurai...someone is strong, but still a little shy...yes I need, I need my samurai..." Dowasure led her to her own bed, where as soon as he stopped supporting her, she just fell against the bed, not moving except for her bright green eyes, which were still focused on him. "Tsukiyo, I wish this didn't have to happen to you..." Dowasure could almost feel the pain hiding behind her eyes. She blinked and put her arms over her face, her voice muffled. The words she was singing sounded...as if she was adding a japanese accent unintentionally...as if she only knew japanese and was trying to sing english... "I can see you wonder, just like always you do...I know you get under your aching sad fire..."Everybody's in vain", you're whispering yourself...You're in trap again that's, no, you don't wanna be..." She uncovered her face and looked at him. "Follow your own heart even though naive, Get ready to start. I truly believe...Taking modesty never ever helps you...Having honesty leads to the way to go..." She reached out her hand and took his in her own, her voice growing slightly in power, but far from her normal exuberance. "Don't be afraid of failing in the game...You don't want to care for the name....Don't worry being alone in the dark...For any where, for any time..." She blinked at him and for a moment he thought he saw something sparkle near her eyes. "You will find me by you..." She let his hands go and he immediately began rubbing them together as the cold air assaulted them. She fell on her side and continued staring at him. "Remember technicolor dream once we had...As we keep it deeply yet still alive...So we hold it tightly yet still in time...We can make it come true with our soul! Let's head up toward the Sun in the sky...It's long overdue to spread wings to fly! We are brave it out with our own pride..." She turned her head away from him and closed her eyes. "Give a reason for life over again..." He watched her as she went to sleep, then headed back to his own bed, not sure of what to make of her words.


End file.
